Fifty Shades: Submission and Strength
by 50-CG-AS-fan
Summary: Anastasia, 21, is a closed-off, fully trained submissive with a simple life ethic and dark past. Billionaire Christian, 25, was initially looking for a robot, but quickly wanted more from Ana. He pushes her to let him in but she fights him every step of the way. Dark themes of depression and self-harm for Ana; no cheating and HEA.
1. Chapter 1

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: I know, I know — I have two other stories going on and I'm doing the cardinal sin of starting another one! But this just came to me and sometimes the ideas just flow, so you have to go with it. Sacrifice and Something Tangible will still be updated on Wattpad. This is very different from anything else I've written. Ana is very emotionally detached and don't expect her to come out of her shell for a long time. Christian quickly becomes infatuated with her and is not a cruel Dom. These chapters are going to be shorter, quicker reads than my usual stuff, since this is just for fun and I'm going to wrap this up soon. Told mostly from Christian POV in the beginning and then will get into Ana's.**

"Let me be very clear Elena. I essentially need a robot, especially after that fiasco with Leila. This damn merger with Suster Telecommunications is going south and I need a release, but this sub has to be straightforward and uncomplicated — the bare amount of chit chat and instruction, and sure as fuck no emotions," Christian growled before rattling off a list of the usual physical attributes he was seeking in a submissive.

Elena put up her hand. "I know, I know and I'm so sorry about Leila. I had no idea she'd become so emotionally invested. Nothing in her prior record suggested she would cross those boundaries. But I have the perfect girl for you. She came to me about a year and a half ago. She's a little on the young side but fully trained and vetted, with excellent credentials, a high pain threshold and unfailing obedience."

"Fine," Christian huffed, skeptical. "Show me her file."

Elena passed the manila folder to her protégé across the large oak desk in his home office.

"She's 21, studies international law and doesn't do much else. Smart but keeps to herself. Rough background but she overcame it and now works in a bookstore to put herself through college. No family, not many friends or other problematic attachments. She's had four Doms since she turned 18, two of whom were under my wing. All four said she was the perfect submissive and all parted ways amicably. She prefers not to get attached."

Christian examined the file. _Mother overdosed at age 12. No biological father. In and out of a variety of foster homes for three years. Then some distant uncle took her in. She left him when she was 18 for the University of Seattle. No family contact, which means they're just as shitty as the foster care system she was under._

"She's damaged goods Elena." _Like me._

"We're all damaged," she retorted. Christian grunted. "I initially hesitated to bring her on given her troubled upbringing but her track record as a sub has been stellar. She typically remains with her Dom for six months and has dabbled in scenes at the club for me. No problems or complaints. Quiet girl who knows what she wants and doesn't expect anything else from her Doms. About as straightforward as I have in my ranks at the moment."

Christian continued to survey the file, shifting to the nude photos and body specs. _She's not gorgeous, but she ticks off all the right boxes. Crooked teeth and her nose is a bit off, but her body is nice. Perky tits, tight stomach — may just need to eat more. Stunning blue eyes. Fuck it, I need someone before I explode!_

"Alright," Christian declared, closing the file. "Bring her by tomorrow to iron out the details."

"Great," Elena beamed. "One caveat, which I'm sure you'll approve of. Her only real hard limits are that she specifically doesn't want to discuss anything related to her personal life and doesn't require much aftercare. She's a firm believer that the lines between Dom and Sub should never be blurred. All she is interested in are the scenes. She's willing to stay over Saturday night but no transportation to or from home and absolutely no gifts of any kind."

Christian's ears perked up. _That's a novelty. We'll see how long that selflessness really lasts. My guess is about five minutes after she sees I live in a big castle full of money._

"Fine, whatever," Christian acquiesced. _All she seems to care about is sex, so at least we'll be a perfect match on that front._


	2. Chapter 2

Ana walked into the cavernous, cold penthouse in a plain, long-sleeve white shirt and jeans. She didn't own many clothes so she kept what she had simple but form-fitting and classy. She wore sneakers but they were clean and in good shape.

Taylor ushered her through the living room and opened the study door for her. "In here ma'am."

"Thank you," she replied politely, stepping inside with her head bowed. Christian rose from his seat while Taylor left them to their own devices, accustomed to the routine.

Christian scanned the petite woman who wordlessly stood in the middle of the room. _Good body. Nice hair. Pretty face. I've had better but I can work with it._

"You may look up," he commanded, momentarily struck by her long lashes and crystal blue eyes. "Please have a seat," he said, quickly regaining his composure.

"Thank you Sir," she replied, taking her seat as she awaited her next command.

"You have your addendums to the contract?"

"Yes Sir," she said, handing him the revised document.

Christian leaned back in his leather chair as he pored over her changes, efficiently bookmarked in colorful tabs. _Not many hard limits. Just the usual — blood, choking, water play etc. I hate those too. I don't know why I even bother to include them in my contracts._

He flipped the page and saw a long list of additions to the personal interactions category. _She's more comfortable looking down than directly at her Dom? Interesting._ Christian glanced up. Her eyes were firmly rooted to her lap. _Whatever. Everyone who does this shit has their quirks. Absolutely no discussion of her personal life, though she's provided extensive medical records and a background check. That's fine. Not like I want her to know my demons either. She will provide transportation to and from my apartment, does not require aftercare unless mutually agreed upon and the allocation of money or other gifts is absolutely forbidden._ Christian scoffed to himself before reading her final note. _Minimal verbal communication is required — just the bare necessity in order to perform a scene and fulfill Sir's instructions. Outside contact of any form is strictly forbidden._

Intrigued, Christian looked up at the brown-haired beauty sitting silently before him.

"Please look up and speak freely." She instantly did. Her eyes glittered with specks of turquoise, though otherwise they were devoid of clues. Unlike his past subs, he couldn't get a read on her.

"You are determined to keep your private life separate aren't you?"

"Naturally Sir."

"May I ask why you got involved in this lifestyle?"

"I enjoy pain and felt it was a healthy outlet Sir."

Frustrated with the brevity of her responses, Christian continued his interrogation. "Tell me a little more about your background. Before I sign a new submissive, I want to ensure that we're on the same page."

"I have had four Doms Sir since turning 18. My typical contract lasts six months, though I'm flexible on shortening or extending it, depending on circumstances. My most recent Dom prior to joining Ms. Lincoln lasted a year. Otherwise, I have engaged in several scenes at her clubs in between arrangements."

"Why did your one-year arrangement end?" Christian inquired, his curiosity piqued.

Ana shrugged. "It was a mutual decision Sir."

"And the others?" he pressed on.

"The contract expired. One Dom found a girlfriend after me and eventually got married I believe. With the other two I simply decided not to renew the contract," she replied mechanically.

 _She's definitely going to make a good lawyer. Her personality is as dry as a brillo pad._ "Why not?" he probed.

Again, the shrug. He would need to rid her of that nasty habit with a thorough caning. "No particular reason. It was simply time to move on. I do not get attached Sir," she said, her stare unwavering and spine stiff.

"And before that?"

Her brows furrowed. "Before what Sir?"

"Before you became involved in BDSM?"

"There is a lengthy background check included in my file," she reminded him, an undercurrent of admonishment in her voice. Christian noticed it was the first time she purposely omitted calling him Sir. He got the message.

"Very well. Let's discuss the logistics. In terms of timing, be here by 9 a.m. Saturday and leave by 4 p.m. Sunday. I may require you to come over one additional night during the week at a pre-decided time of convenience for both of our schedules." _Because this merger is fucking killing me and I need to beat the shit out of someone other than myself and my employees._

"That is acceptable Sir," she replied robotically, her mask impassive. Christian's agitation grew.

"You work at a bookstore?"

"Yes Sir." _Pulling teeth. Just get on with it Grey._

"Will the midweek rendezvous be a problem for you at work?"

"No Sir, as long as you can notify me one week in advance and I can come after classes."

"Very well. Are you available this Wednesday in addition to the upcoming weekend?" he asked, a tad too eagerly for his taste."

"Yes Sir."

"Good. Any questions then?"

"No Sir."

He frowned, inexplicably irritated by her aloof demeanor yet drawn to it at the same time.

"Alright then, let's sign. I have work to do," he said gruffly.

She nodded, unfazed, and dutifully completed the paperwork in front of her.

"I'll see you Saturday Anastasia." _All of you in fact._ He hid his smirk.

"Yes Sir," she said, clipped and emotionless.

"Go out the door and Taylor will see you out," he said brusquely, before softening his tone. "I look forward to seeing you Saturday Anastasia," he added, enjoying the sound of her name on his tongue."

"Thank you Sir," she said, walking out the door without a glance back.


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note: Sorry folks — no real lemons yet. I just don't have it in me for now and I want this story to be simpler than my other ones, so the pace will be much faster.**

That first weekend, Christian was in sexual bliss. He had pushed Ana to her limits and she took everything like a champ. The St. Andrews Cross. The cane. The vibrating butt plug. Nipple clothespins. Genital clamps. Whether shackled to the bed or bent over a bench, Ana was ready, wet and willing. Christian was drunk with power.

By Saturday night, between them they had shared nine orgasms — five for her and four for him. He didn't want to exhaust her but she was able to keep up with his rigorous pace. Finally, by 2 a.m., he approached her as she put on her robe and headed to bed.

"Was that satisfactory Anastasia?" he asked, willing her to look at him voluntarily. _What the fuck Grey? Just tell her to look at you. You're her Dom for God's sake._

"More than satisfactory Sir," she timidly replied, eyes glued to the floor.

"Look up at me," he commanded gently. Her soulful eyes thrilled him to no end. "I laid out arnica cream and ibuprofen in your room. Do you need assistance with the bath?" he asked, his voice tinged with hope.

"No thank you Sir." He winced. "I appreciate the offer but I'm fine," she reassured him, granting him a dazzling smile that softened the blow of her rejection. His heart quickened.

"Wonderful. I'll see you in the morning Anastasia."

"Yes Sir. A Western omelet correct?"

"Yes that would be nice. Thank you," he grinned.

"You're welcome Sir," she said before turning down the hallway. Christian watched her walk directly to her room, like a soldier marching down a battlefield. _Elena was right. There's no fuss with this girl. She's like a mindless robot — albeit a very well-endowed one._

Christian grimaced at his inner musings. _Don't insult her intelligence Grey. She's not a lifeless clone or doll. She just keeps her thoughts well-hidden. That's her prerogative. Hell, that's what people in this lifestyle sign up for! What are you complaining about? She only wants sex; so do I. That doesn't make us bad people. Respect the girl's wish for privacy and keep it strictly professional. No add-ons other than the sexual kind._

Christian turned in for the night but found sleep elusive. His mind invariably wandered to the tiny girl down the hall from him, trying to wrap his head around the enigma of Anastasia Steele. He basked in the afterglow of sated dominance, but wondered what drove her to submission. What caused her to want pain alongside her pleasure?

 _Stop it Grey. She's not digging into your past. Quit trying to dredge up hers. Who the fuck cares what her life has been like or what she thinks? You're interested in her body, not her brain. She was happy tonight. You were happy. Leave it at that._ But after two hours of fitful rest, he flung the sheets off and stomped downstairs to crank out some tunes on the piano. At four in the morning, he resolved to quit overanalyzing his latest arrangement and finally drifted off, determined not to pry any further into his submissive's life.

The next morning, after a pleasant breakfast and mind-blowing playroom session, Christian was now equally determined to draw Ana out of her shell, despite his earlier pledges. She was freshly showered and preparing him a salad for the afternoon before heading home. Christian watched as she subtly but elegantly swayed her hips while tossing the Romaine lettuce.

"Why did you decide to study international law?" he asked out of the blue. She abruptly stopped what she was doing and turned toward him, staring at the ground before replying. Her instantaneous deference only ratcheted up Christian's frustration. _How many more fucking times do I have to remind her that she can look at me outside of a scene?_

"I enjoy learning about how the world ticks and being involved in the nitty-gritty mechanics of international relations, but I wasn't cut out for a career in public policy or politics, so I stuck to law."

Christian's brows shot up _. Finally, more than two words._

"Why not?"

Ana sighed. "International relations typically involves work such as advising, teaching or serving on nonprofits, all of which requires a lot of people-to-people interaction, which I am not particularly skilled at. And politics is far too socially outgoing for me. I prefer being behind the scenes and I have a good memory, so law was a natural choice for me," she explained, a slight blush staining her cheeks. _Don't tell him your life story Ana. He's just being polite for Pete's sake!_

Christian was elated with himself. _I knew there was life behind those eyes. But I still can't get a good look at them._

"Please look at me Anastasia when we are outside of the playroom. I don't like to repeat myself," he reproached her.

"I'm very sorry Sir," she said, chastised. She promptly glanced up but instead of sparkling blue eyes, he was met with a downtrodden expression that twisted his gut. _Shit, I didn't mean to upset her._

"That's much better," he smiled, easing her concern — and his. "Why do you say that you're not good at people-to-people interaction?" _I've sure as fuck enjoyed our interaction so far, up until you clam up on me._

"Umm, I'm shy and a bookworm," she confessed meekly, though inside she was screaming. _There, I'm a loser. Now will you shut up and leave me alone so I can do my work and go home!_

Ana began to rock on her heels nervously. Christian accepted the small nugget of information she threw him and relented, switching gears to another subject as she resumed preparing his salad. "So what do you do in your free time Miss Steele?"

Ana didn't turn around but he saw her flinch. _Fuck Grey. What part of no delving into her personal life did you fail to comprehend?_

"Books. Study. Not much Sir," she muttered, concealing her agitation as she layered on the salad dressing.

"No TV?" _Jesus Grey, shut up already. She has every right to break the contract because you're violating her hard limits, so back off or you'll lose her before you really even had her._

"I tend to only watch news shows such as BBC, PBS, etc. Nothing exciting Sir."

"Me too," Christian replied, giving her some breathing room. He began to comb through the emails on his phone, although he couldn't shake the feeling that he had alienated her with his inappropriate questioning. She continued to efficiently prepare his salad while he continued to worry.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to pry," he mumbled, unaccustomed to apologizing for his actions.

Ana exhaled. _Don't be a bitch Steele. The man's asking benign questions and you just had the most amazing sex of your life. He's obviously a pro and not going to breach your trust, so relax a little._

"I don't like a lot of fluff, and there's far too much of that on TV," she uttered, taking him by surprise. "I hate reality TV — real life is plenty of reality for me — but my one vice is the 'Real Housewives.' Well, not my one vice. I suppose I have other extracurricular activities…" she trailed off teasingly, the insinuation causing Christian's pants to grow unbearably tight.

Christian's heart pounded against his ribs. She was flirting with him.

"'Real Housewives' huh? I'll have to check it out. And we all have our vices Miss Steele," he winked. _And you're mine._

Ana's face flamed crimson. She quickly wrapped up his salad, thanked him for the weekend, grabbed her overnight bag and bolted toward the elevator, leaving him in a daze. Gathering his wits, Christian just as quickly bolted after her.

"Ana wait," he called out before catching up to her. She spun around, bewildered and apprehensive. "I just want to ensure that we're still on for 6 p.m. on Wednesday?" he breathed.

Her shoulders sagged in relief. "Yes Sir."

"Good." He leaned in to kiss her cheek. She reciprocated with a bashful smile before darting for the doors.

Christian stood there, wearing a wolfish grin, until realization hit him. Wednesday was still two days away.


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Note: When you're on a roll, you take advantage of it. Please review!**

Wednesday finally rolled around and Christian was dying to play out the numerous fantasies he'd intricately constructed in his head over the past two days. When the big moment arrived, however, he steered clear of the hard stuff, despite Ana's high tolerance for pain. He stuck to spanking her with his hand, her round ass a glorious shade of pink, and various forms of missionary fucking.

 _She closes her eyes when she's in pain, and I want to see them open for me when she comes._

After another intense session, he helped her dress in some comfortable sweats despite her insistence that she was capable of clothing herself.

"We have two more hours before you need to go home. Let's grab some food," Christian suggested, the stress of the last two days having dissipated. "I'm famished."

"Thank you Sir but I'm not very hungry."

"You've had a strenuous workout. I insist," he casually dismissed her, leading her to the kitchen.

She pulled her arm back, taking him by surprise. "Sir, as we concluded during our negotiations, while I respect your rules about eating, I made it clear that I will keep my own eating schedule. I do not have a huge appetite and only eat when I'm hungry. But I can assure you that I've had a full three meals today."

Christian's eyes blazed with fury, but Ana remained steadfast. _I stick to the letter of the contract. It's my creed and my safety net Grey — and don't think that I won't put you in your place when you deviate from it._

"Fine," Christian huffed like a deprived adolescent. "Then you can please me while I eat."

He stormed into the kitchen to grab the sandwich Gail had made earlier, unceremoniously plunked it down on the dining room table, unzipped his pants and sat down. "You know what to do. On your knees."

Ana succumbed, crawling under the table to suck him off while he nonchalantly ate his food and even took a phone call, though his voice was clearly strained. When he forced her head down, she gagged but swallowed all he had to give her. She remained crouched under the table while Christian threw his fork down with a loud clang. He felt temporary relief but his anger was now redirected — at himself. He had intentionally demeaned her, and they both knew it.

"Please rise Anastasia," he said, suddenly contrite. "Did I hurt you? Please tell me if I did and I won't do it again."

She shook her head but kept her eyes downcast.

"Would you like a bath?" he offered, shame churning his gut. He'd lost his appetite as well.

"No Sir. I should get going. I have an early class."

Christian expelled a frustrated sigh. _Good job Grey! Now you've scared her off. Asshole._

"Please Ana," he pleaded. "You mentioned that you would be bathing here since it was easier. Please relax. Don't go home yet. I'd rather you didn't." His vulnerability stunned him, and her.

"Alright," she relented, albeit with great reluctance. She had two papers to finish back home. "I won't be long Sir."

He screeched his chair back and instantly rose to follow her to her room, leaving her confused. "I can join you," he offered politely. Ana gawked at him.

 _What? That's way too intimate. What is this guy's deal? Elena said he was sex God — which he is — and standoffish, which he isn't. I'm not getting in a bath with a guy who has a massive complex about touch. That's just begging for a beating._

Christian saw her perplexed expression and knew he'd overstepped his mark, yet again.

"I mean I can wash you. Only with your permission of course," he clarified. "I did it with all of my submissives. It was a healthy way of bonding after a scene." _Not really, but whatever bullshit works to get me in that bathroom with her._

Ana was exhausted, mentally and physically. "That would be nice," she said, without conviction.

As she stripped, Christian filled the large bath with lavender-scented bubbles, constantly checking the temperature while willing himself not to stare at Ana's nude body.

He helped her inside and began lathering up the loofa to wash her, reveling in her creamy skin with each stroke. His touch was calming and Ana found herself almost lulled to sleep.

"Is that nice?" he asked, brushing a stray curl out of her eye.

"Yes, thank you Sir." Christian frowned. _This Sir shit is really grating on my nerves. It's like she's on automatic pilot._

"Anastasia, you have been a picture-perfect sub, and I apologize if my actions earlier offended you in any way," he blurted out, still preoccupied by the notion that she was upset with him.

It did, but Ana was indifferent. _He's a Dom. Being a possessive asshole is a prerequisite for the job._

"I'm fine Sir. Not much bothers me."

"I see that. You have a high pain threshold," he observed, studying her reaction closely.

She merely nodded.

"Why? What is about pain that turns you on? What attracted you to this lifestyle?" Christian continued to tenderly massage her skin, hoping his soothing ministrations would distract her from his intrusiveness.

She remained stubbornly silent. _Oh jeez, here he goes with the questions again._ Ana refrained from rolling her eyes. She didn't have time for another spanking.

"For me, it is about order and control," Christian offered, hoping she would meet him halfway. "I had a difficult childhood and today, in the corporate world, control is how operate."

Ana was surprised he volunteered that tidbit of information, but she wasn't about to commiserate about shitty childhoods.

"For me it fills a void. I can enjoy physical intimacy but remain emotionally detached," she revealed. "Women, after all, have needs too."

Christian winced. _Detached? Is that how she would describe our time together?_

Ana mistook his disappointment for disapproval and quickly backtracked. "What I mean is that BDSM keeps life simple for me. I'm not good at conventional relationships. This allows me the distance that I need, and I find it liberating to hand the decisions over to someone else, at least in this area of my life."

Ana subconsciously began to cover up her chest as Christian gaped at her. He finally wrung out the loofa sponge and placed it on the side of the tub, rubbing his face. He couldn't resist one last question.

"Have you ever had a conventional relationship?"

"No." Her arms were now firmly crossed over her chest as she eyed him expectantly.

"Neither have I," he confessed, gazing at her with such intensity that she shivered. "Which is why I've been bombarding you for information. I only want to ensure that I please you."

Ana looked back at him with astonishment. "But my sole purpose is to please you." _That's kind of the whole point of this arrangement dude._

"Yes, but are you happy Anastasia?" he persisted.

"I'm content," she said, breaking eye contact and effectively ending the conversation.

Christian sighed, dejected. _That's not the same thing and she knows it._

"Fair enough. I'll let you finish up. I'll wait for you outside to escort you out," he said as he left the bathroom.


	5. Chapter 5

**Author's Note: LOL – now I'm just trying to avoid work with these fast updates! Thank you for the reviews and encouragement. And to the Exceptional guest, thank you so much for your comment: I agree that it's more powerful for Christian to fall for Ana's personality rather than her looks. Although she is pretty, the whole Ana-as-a-gorgeous-supermodel seems too easy for me. I think making her normal-looking adds a realistic element to her insecurities. I'm nervous about taking on subjects like depression and cutting, but hopefully I don't get too much blowback on here.**

 **Also, I believe someone mentioned that this is similar to a story called Addicted to Love. I'm sorry I don't know that one. Ana starting off as a submissive is not exactly a novel concept. Pretty sure that plot's been done a million times, but as I said in the preview, this story centers on emotional issues such as depression. But my favorite version of the Ana-as-submissive story line is Ms. Fraser's Fast and Furious, which is one of the all-time greats, so I suppose that somewhat inspired me. Diamondchild also has an interesting version now out.**

 **Anyway, enjoy and review! And don't worry, unlike my other angst-ridden stories, this is as bad as it gets. There's not as much drama in this story.**

Come Saturday, Christian wanted to atone for his barrage of questions by keeping the dynamics between him and Anastasia light. He decided to forgo a trip to the playroom in favor of an early lunch to ensure that Ana ate properly.

They sat in companionable silence as he read the newspaper on the barstool while she chopped some cucumbers and tomatoes to add to the grilled chicken she had prepared. Christian snuck a glance her way for the umpteenth time. _Not a great cook, but she'll suffice. She satisfies my tastes in other ways._

"Do you enjoy cooking?" The temptation to talk had proven too great to resist.

 _And here we go. At least he waited an hour this time before interrogating me._

"Not particularly," she replied dully, careful not to slice her finger for the umpteenth time. "I live alone so it's a necessary evil. I apologize. I'll try to read up on some recipes to broaden my repertoire."

"No don't," he interjected. "I could care less." _As long as you eat._ "Everything you've made has been delicious."

She smiled at his contrived compliment. _Not it hasn't. It tastes like flavored cardboard, but you still manage to devour it like a starved caveman._

"My palette isn't very discerning — chicken, turkey and burgers with some veggies pretty much work for me," Ana shrugged, absentmindedly dropping tomato wedges on the floor as she focused all her attention on dicing the last cucumber. "I don't like to fuss. I'm low-maintenance in the grand scheme of things I suppose."

Christian scanned his lavish surroundings and his designer-label T-shirt and jeans, which stood in stark contrast to Ana's simple outfit of a beige sweater over khaki pants. He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. He had avoided broaching the subject before but perhaps now was the right time. "There's nothing wrong with low-maintenance. I suppose I'm the polar opposite," he chuckled nervously.

"Nothing wrong with money Sir," she giggled, distracted by the painstaking process of cutting and chopping. _How the fuck do those TV chefs do this? It must be the editing._

Christian seized his opportunity. "In that case, while I know you stated in one of your addendum clauses that gifts were forbidden, would you do me the courtesy of purchasing you some new attire."

Ana scrunched her nose, but not from the burnt smell of chicken that lingered in the kitchen. "Is there something wrong with my clothes Sir?" she stammered, trying to mask her indignation.

"Absolutely not," he replied, alarmed. "I only meant that I would like to buy you something as a thank-you for the time you've bestowed on me — as a sign of my gratitude."

Ana chewed her lip searching for ways to take the sting out of her rejection. Christian sat there mesmerized, temporarily forgetting about the clothes. All he wanted to do at the moment was divest Ana of hers.

"I truly appreciate that Sir, but I have to decline your kind offer." _Too 'Pretty Woman' for me._ "Please don't be offended." _Which you will be._

Christian scrubbed his face. "Of course. I understand," he grumbled.

"I'm just a simple girl with simple tastes, whether it's food or clothes. There's not much to me," she added matter-of-factly.

Hope bloomed in his chest. "I highly doubt that Miss Steele. Tell me more about these so-called simple tastes of yours. I'm your Dom, after all. It's my job to know your preferences. It would please me."

 _Nice try. I only please you within the confines of the contract buddy._

"It's your duty to know my _sexual_ preferences Sir," she pointedly reminded him.

Christian scowled with displeasure as he folded up the newspaper he hadn't read anyway. "To understand your likes and dislikes, in that _department_ , it helps to have a sense of the person as a whole," he scolded her.

Ana put the knife down. _Enough of this constant needling. It's like I'm being grilled in some 'Law & Order' episode. This billionaire whiz-kid needs to get a clue and put two and two together that I keep my private life just that — private._

"You have the privilege of my body Sir, not my personal thoughts," she rebuked him, her voice taut.

Christian flinched, rage boiling his blood. "How dare you speak to me like that," he thundered as he slammed his fists on the counter, every muscle in his body shaking _. I'm such a fucking fool._ _She wants a Dom, not a BFF. How much more is it going to take for the message to sink in Grey? She's not interested in your money or your charming personality. She wants your dick. All you've done is make yourself look weak and pathetic, while she craves power and punishment. Fine then. I get the hint! She wants a dick — I'll give her one!_

Ana stood motionless as she awaited her punishment. _I just hope it's pain not humiliation this time._ Either way, she understood it was part and parcel of the package she had signed up for. Her eyes were devoid of fear or emotion, which only infuriated him even more.

"I'm your Dom and you need to remember your place. Go to the playroom right now. It's time to teach you a lesson."

"Yes Sir," Ana said, automatically dropping the knife. She rushed to the playroom, shed her clothes and assumed the position.

Christian barged in less than a minute later, fully clothed. "Remove your panties and bend over the bench," he barked, yanking a belt off the wall. She dutifully obeyed. She knew what was coming.

"15 strikes. Count Anastasia," he spat out, incensed. _If I only have the privilege of your body and nothing else, then I'm sure as hell going to take advantage of it Miss Steele._

Ana blithely complied, counting down the strikes raining down on her bare ass. Christian glared at her face as he lashed her with the belt. She was neither intimidated nor affected by the blows. She had mentally checked out, which only compounded his anger — and the force of his swings.

By the 10th hit, he had broken skin. The belt clattered to the floor. Puzzled, Ana stopped counting.

"Anastasia, I'm sorry. I broke skin," he said, his voice shaky when he saw the cracks of blood marring her alabaster curves. He gently lifted her by the elbow and helped her to her feet. _I not only broke skin — I broke her trust. Fuck! She has every right to declare the contract null and void. Fuck, fuck, fuck!_

Christian combed his hands through his hair, apologizing profusely while Ana stood dumbfounded, trying to process his mercurial mood swing. _What's the big deal? It's barely a scratch. This guy looks like his puppy just got ran over._

"It's fine Mr. Grey," she tried to reassure him, in vain. He began to frantically pace the room.

"No it's not," he screamed, his booming voice echoing off the red-soaked walls. "I fucked up and I'm sorry Anastasia. I would never breach your hard limits!"

"I believe you Sir. It was an accident. I'm really alright."

His pacing was making her dizzy. "Please look at me," she requested.

He abruptly stopped and turned to face her. "It's nothing. Honestly. Please stop apologizing. I'm numb to the pain." _To a lot of things._ "In fact, I welcome it."

A pang of remorse stabbed him. "You should only accept pain with pleasure and within your limits."

"I do. BDSM is a business arrangement, not an exact science. Things happen."

Her blasé attitude irked him. _This isn't business; this is personal. She trusted me and I let her down because I lost the one thing I pride myself on in both my personal and professional life: control. She has every right to be livid with me._

"You shouldn't forgive so easily Miss Steele," he chided her.

"And you shouldn't beat yourself up so easily Mr. Grey," she volleyed back, the pun not lost on her.

"Fair enough," he conceded. "But at least let me assist you in your room."

"No thank you Sir," she coolly brushed him off. "This is one of those moments where I prefer my aftercare to be done in private. I'll see you tomorrow." His irritation made an unwelcome comeback. She ignored it, along with his clenched fists, and gave him a courteous smile before retreating to her room.

 _Immature ass,_ Ana fumed as she walked down the hall. As soon as she entered her room, however — which was now oddly decked out in fresh roses — she shook her head, and shook off any trace of resentment. _It comes with the territory Steele and it barely hurts._ She turned to the mirror to examine the damage. _Like I thought, hardly a mark. I've been through way worse. Skin heals, unlike other wounds. No need to overreact and blow it. This is the best a girl like you can expect out of life. The man's exceedingly considerate, if a little nosy, but it all comes from a good place. He's a decent guy, even though he'd be loathe to admit it._

Ana put on her pajamas and mindlessly peered out the window. The Seattle skyline was cloaked in darkness, reflecting her typical mood. Entranced by the flickering lights, she wondered what other people in the obscured apartment buildings were doing at that moment — the "normal" people of the world. _The lucky ones._ She briefly ruminated on her past but not her current choices. It never once dawned on Ana to question the lifestyle. It allowed her to function and it was a necessary evil, much like cooking. But Christian had undoubtedly spiced up her routine, though she was loathe to admit it.

 _I don't deserve much and I certainly don't deserve him. So grin and bear it tomorrow. Perhaps his mood will mellow and he'll fuck me properly. Regardless, one more day and then I'll have the whole week to myself, precisely the way I like it. And come the weekend, I get to maintain just the right amount of human contact to keep the demons at bay and not live like a recluse. So be a nice sub Steele but don't let him walk all over you. Remind him of the ground rules and go from there._

With her mind made up and no-nonsense attitude firmly intact, Ana drifted off into a deep slumber. Christian, meanwhile, sat at the piano most of the night.


	6. Chapter 6

_**Author's Note: Thank you so much everyone for the kind reviews, including the amazing in-depth guest reviews on my writing and where I'm going with this story. They really inspire me so please keep them coming :)**_

 _ **And yes as some of you have pointed out, Ana is not a happy person in this story. The gist of it is that she suffers from severe depression. Her story and feelings will continue to be revealed slowly, but the pain of BDSM is not the main issue. The crux of her pain is internal and she has struggled to cope with it for years. For all of her problems though, she is a very intelligent woman — something Christian grows to love — so I wanted that to come through in this chapter. Thank you again for reading!**_

Christian wore a broad — if sleep-deprived — smile as he greeted Ana in the kitchen. "How are you feeling?" he asked, wasting no time as he raced over to her, giving her a tentative kiss on the lips. When she reciprocated, he instantly deepened it, pulling her into a tight embrace. Outside, storm clouds had begun to gather. Inside, Ana felt warm and at peace.

"Perfectly fine Sir," she moaned, a bit out of breath.

"I mean how is your…" he hedged.

She quirked her brow. "My bum?"

"Yes that's the one," he grinned, tracing delicate circles along her backside with his fingertips. "And a nice one it is at that."

"Like brand spanking new," she quipped. He didn't seem convinced.

"I swear. I'll survive," she laughed off his concern, wriggling out of his hold to rifle through his cabinets for a pan.

"What can I make you this morning?" she asked brightly.

"I thought I would order in." _Because I want to make amends for yesterday. And because I can't cook for shit._ "So what would _you_ like Miss Steele?"

"That's extremely considerate Sir, but I'm not really a morning person. My stomach won't wake up for at least another two hours," she replied kindly. "But please let me whip you up something." _Even though I can't cook for shit, you seem to be amused by my attempts._

His mood plummeted, along with the weather outside.

"You need to eat Anastasia," he said curtly.

Her posture went rigid. "I'm well aware Sir. But you need to respect my boundaries when it comes to food. I specifically marked in the contract…"

"I know what was in the contract Miss Steele," he interrupted her, seething. _Fuck the damn contract_. "I deal with contracts every day, remember?"

She nodded, unmoved by his jab, so he stepped up his provocation.

"I'll just take some coffee and croissant. Do you think you can manage that?"

Again, a blank nod. Her apathy was driving him to distraction — and spite.

"Afterward, while I finish the paper, kneel on the floor in the great room until further notice."

Ana set about her work. _So much for his sunny disposition. At least he didn't ask for eggs. Last time I got one stuck to the pan while the other landed on the floor. Slippery little suckers._

She wordlessly set his coffee and croissant down in front of him and took her position on the hard marble floor. It was chilly and she was only dressed in a camisole and shorts, so she tried to distract herself by imagining a lush tropical beach, with a certain billionaire getting his ass pounded by a big wave.

Meanwhile, Christian tried to concentrate on the business section but it was fruitless. Compromise was not his style, but neither was cruelty.

 _I've got to come up with a new strategy. This buttering her up and alternatively biting her head off isn't getting me anywhere but the Dom doghouse. Think Grey think. You're a businessman. Size up your adversary and try a different approach. Find something that appeals to her — besides sex. She doesn't talk about her past. She doesn't talk about her personal life. What the fuck is left? Of course, work! Or in her case school. She's passionate about world affairs. Play off that moron._

"Miss Steele," Christian said coldly, pretending to read another news article. "One of my investors owns a shoe factory in Lebanon and is preparing to pull out of the country because of the war in neighboring Syria. Since you are an international law expert," he said derisively, "I figured you could offer your expert opinion on the matter."

Ana's ears perked up, though her eyes remained transfixed to the floor. _Finally, a neutral question. What harm could this do? Famous last words._

"Lebanon, on a per-capita basis, is enduring the worst refugee overflow in the world at the moment, so his decision sounds perfectly reasonable," she replied, opting for brevity to avoid enflaming Christian's temper again.

"But isn't the fighting in Syria dying down?" he inquired, seemingly oblivious.

Ana didn't know whether to laugh or cry at his ignorance.

"Quite the opposite Sir," she began, keeping her condescension to a minimum, with tremendous effort. This was her area of expertise. _The only thing in life I understand._

"The violence has ticked up and the sides are more fragmented than ever. A resolution is sure to prove elusive for perhaps a decade or longer, much like Lebanon's civil war back in the 1980s."

Christian wasn't disappointed. He knew she was clever, but he wouldn't let his excitement get the best of him this time. "Please elaborate Miss Steele," he said, feigning indifference.

"It has become a geopolitical proxy war and none of the actors have much stake in a resolution. On the ground, you have President Bashar al-Assad's regime, backed by Iran and Russia as well as Hezbollah. A motley crew of Syrian rebels are supported by Saudi Arabia, Turkey, Persian Gulf countries and to a varying degree the United States. You also have the Islamic State and other opportunistic groups who switch allegiances at the drop of a hat. Determining friend from foe is nearly impossible, as is cutting off the money supply from outside sources. Everyone is far too invested to risk defeat, but no one has the strength to claim victory. Meanwhile, it is the people on the inside — the civilians — who continue to suffer, along with those in neighboring countries such as Lebanon and Jordan, which are bearing the disproportionate brunt of the refugee exodus. It is perhaps the world's most neglected humanitarian crisis at the moment." She paused to take a breath.

Christian was enormously pleased with himself. _Finally, a language she speaks! I knew she had it in her. She's just like me — cuts through the bullshit and sees the forest through the trees. She'd be a CEO if she ever switched majors and came to work for me._

"So what's the solution?" he casually asked.

"If I knew that, I'd be at the U.N., not on your floor," she parried back before adding the obligatory "Sir."

Christian's heart was beating a mile a minute, claiming its own victory lap. She was feisty — and he wanted to savor it as long as he could.

Instead of throwing a barrage of questions at her this time, however, he tried a different tack. He turned the page of his newspaper and remained silent, compelling her to continue.

Emboldened by the easy rapport they seem to had re-established, Ana did just that.

"I'm a foreign policy realist Sir. I believe countries act out of their own national self-interests, not necessarily out of lofty geopolitical ideals or ambitions. Money, as I'm sure you're well aware, makes the world go round." Christian smirked, radiating pride at his girl.

"So the internal solution to Syria's civil war largely rests with outside powers such as the U.S., Russia, Iran and Saudi Arabia. That in turn will require serious maneuvering and handwringing by Washington to convince Moscow, Jeddah and Tehran that bankrolling the opposing sides in Syria's conflict is no longer in their interest. But their interests are at cross-purposes: The Saudis want Sunni hegemony in the region; the Iranians want Shiite pre-eminence; the Russians just want to maintain regional influence; and the Americans want a whole host of unrealistic objectives. Until these interests somehow converge or are doused, each side will continue to enflame tensions inside Syria, perpetuating the misery. I could go into more detail if you'd like but I don't wish to bore you." _Plus, my knees freaking hurt and my teeth are about to start chattering from the cold._

"You could never bore me Miss Steele." Christian finally put down his neglected newspaper and looked at Ana. She was clearly flustered by his compliment but also visibly uncomfortable as she shifted her knees slightly.

"What's wrong?" He jumped off the stool and sprinted over to her.

"Nothing Sir," she said, head bowed as Christian towered over her.

He sighed. _What's wrong? You stuck her on the floor like some dog while she schooled your ass Grey. That's what's wrong._

He knelt down to her position. "Please look at me Ana," he implored her, his tone achingly tender. "I want you to be honest."

"I'm just a little cold."

"Fuck," he cursed himself, guilt washing over him. "Let me help you up."

His hands grasped her upper arms and he felt how cold she actually was.

"Shit Ana, you're freezing! Why didn't you say something?"

Christian tore off his T-shirt and wrenched it over her head before hastily guiding her to the couch. He ripped a blanket off a nearby ottoman and draped it over Ana, seating himself beside her as he rubbed his hands up and down her arms.

"Why didn't you safe word Ana? I never want you to be cold." _Or hungry. Or unhappy._

Ana gaped at the distressed man in front of her. "I wasn't at my limit Sir. Not even close." _I was a little cold, not hyperthermic._

"Still," he mumbled, his eyes closed in regret.

When he reopened them, the sorrow lurking behind those grey orbs pierced Ana's gut. "I'm, I'm sorry," she stuttered. _I don't deserve this concern. I never meant to upset him. Just the opposite. I thought I was doing everything he wanted. I don't understand what to do in this topsy-turvy arrangement of ours._

"Don't apologize Ana. You're not the one who's sorry — yet again." Christian squared his shoulders. "Anastasia, I would genuinely appreciate it if you shared with me one thing that you would like to do today. I would like to make up for my erratic behavior and reward you for your patience. But if you'd rather not do anything and would prefer to go home, I understand that as well."

Shell-shocked, Ana's jaw hung open as she fidgeted with the blanket. _Home. I don't exactly have much of one. I like being here with him, as long as he doesn't go off the deep end of despair again. What do I want? That sounds so foreign. It's not something I ever consider._

"I'd like to stay Sir." Christian's exhale was audible. "I don't have anything particular I'd like to do." She tilted her head down, embarrassed by her lack of creativity.

Christian clasped her chin and gently raised her face back toward him. "Tell me."

 _Oh fuck it. Just spit it out Steele. So he thinks you're a weirdo? Let's be honest, he flew over the cuckoo's nest a long time ago himself._

"At the moment, all I'd like to do is sit under a blanket, perhaps have a cup of hot cocoa by a roaring fire and watch the rain outside." She blushed. "It's silly. Like I said, I'm a simple girl. I don't need much. I can always go if you prefer."

"I'll start the fire." _It's gas, so I can actually manage that._ "Then wait here while I make the cocoa." Ana was floored. _I think he's got our roles reversed._

"Sir, that's my …"

"I insist," he pre-empted her, striding to the kitchen before she could get another word in. Ana wondered what alien planet she had landed on.

 _I'm lounging on a couch 20 stories up in the air, while Seattle's most eligible bachelor — and a billionaire to boot — makes me hot chocolate._

Ana smiled to herself, picturing Christian scouring the kitchen for the manual to the fancy Keurig machine that she knew he couldn't operate.


	7. Chapter 7

**Author's Note: This is a bit of a roller coaster — sorry, I went back and forth with it but hopefully you like it. After this are two light-hearted chapters, and then Ana's backstory is revealed, which should offer more insights into her personality. Thank you for the reviews — love them!**

Ana leaned her head against the armrest and decided to enjoy her unexpected respite from reality. She had finally stopped pestering Christian about helping him in the kitchen after he had shooed her out for the third time.

Half an hour later, he emerged, proudly bearing two steaming-hot mugs.

"Here you go Miss Steele," he said, handing her a cup before taking his spot beside her.

"Thank you Sir. This is wonderful."

Ana spoke too fast. As soon as she took a sip, she scrunched her face in disgust before she realized what she had done.

"What's wrong?" he asked, eyes wide with fear.

"Nothing Sir. This is fabulous." _And I'm a horrible liar._

"Ana, I've been described as many things, but when it comes to the kitchen, fabulous is definitely not among the adjectives."

"Perhaps that's simply not the room where your particular expertise lies Sir," she said, giving him a scorching gaze.

The fireplace was now officially an afterthought. The flames between them were enough to heat up the room.

 _You promised her some rest Grey, not another playroom romp. Cool your jets._

"And I will ensure that you become well-versed with my expertise," he crooned, "but first tell me what's wrong with the cocoa."

"It's just a tad on the sweet side, that's all," she replied, trying to take another sip without giving herself a cavity.

"I only added two teaspoons of sugar," he said defensively.

"My teeth are just sensitive." He eyed her dubiously. "Also, I believe the little pods already come pre-sweetened. But it's delicious."

"Shit. Why don't they write that on the damn packages then? What an asinine invention."

Ana smiled coyly. _One that made its inventors millions._ Bemused, Christian took the cup from her and set it down on the coffee table.

"Let me make you another one in that case." _And redeem myself._

"No please." _I have to leave some time today._ "That's really not necessary. I have everything I need right here. I'm enjoying myself."

Christian grinned, taking a hold of her feet and massaging the soles with his firm grip. Ana stifled her groan. _Oh God, this man can give a woman an orgasm with just a foot rub_.

"Does that feel nice," he chuckled, arrogance personified.

"It feels heavenly Sir." Ana almost zoned out in ecstasy before remembering herself. "But I should be the one making you feel good. It's my job Sir."

 _Why the fuck does she always make it sound like an obligation?_ Christian took a deep, fortifying breath. _Chill out Grey. Don't ruin the mood._

"Well, you know what they say about all work and no play?" he teased.

"Yes, but I highly doubt anyone could ever accuse you of being a dull boy, errr, man … Sir." _Obey Ana. Don't flirt. Your sense of humor is about as sexy as that canker sore on the roof of your mouth last week._

"I could say the same for you Miss Steele," he mused out loud. "There's never a dull moment with you."

"I highly doubt that as well Mr. Grey," she said, her voice tinged with sadness. He stopped his ministrations and eyed her quizzically.

Ana quickly sought to deflect his curiosity, her cheeks flushed pink by her slip of the tongue.

"Is there something I can do for you Sir? You've been very kind to me, but is there something you need?" she asked, her submission indelibly ingrained into her psyche.

"I need you to stop fussing over me."

"But …"

"I know, I know. It's your job. It's also my job as your Dom to ensure your well-being. It's my priority, in fact, so just relax," he ordered her. _For once in your life._

She blinked in shock. His declaration left her speechless.

Her previous interactions with Doms were all respectful but sterile and one-sided. She knew about the lofty principles that undergirded the lifestyle: trust, devotion, mutual pleasure, etc.

 _But at the end of the day, it boils down to one human being controlling another purely for sexual gratification. Why do people put BDSM up on some pedestal? It's just a means to an end for both people — not the road to self-fulfillment or romantic nirvana. It's not exactly easy to wax poetic about vibrators and butt plugs. Christian's so different on two levels though. He's an exceptional Dom — one who takes his responsibilities seriously — but he's also a caring person. Despite how closed-off he is, I'm sure he'll find a woman one day who will make him truly happy. He deserves no less. In the meantime, I'll savor our time together and for once just go with the flow — or as much as a sub can go with it._

"Do you sit out here often Sir?" Ana asked, attempting to make polite conversation.

"Not particularly." The rain tapped against the window while the glimmer of the fire bounced off her eyes. _I should do this more often actually._ "Perhaps I'll be more motivated to come out here now that you'll join me."

She gave him an incandescent smile that sent his heart rate soaring. Christian sensed Ana's fortress-like walls crumbling and was determined to worm his way inside.

"What else do you like besides cocoa and rain Miss Steele?"

"I don't have any hobbies outside of my studies," she replied candidly. "I enjoy reading, nature, long walks — all the clichéd things people who live on their own supposedly do. The only thing missing is the cat."

"So you're a loner?"

"An introvert, like many submissives, but yes I suppose." _I'm my only friend but that's fine by me. It's better than relying on people who inevitably hurt or abandon you._

"So what else do you enjoy other than solitude?" _And sex._

"Not much Mr. Grey. You give me far too much credit. I'm a very boring individual," she said matter-of-factly.

His intake of air was pronounced. _How can she put such little value on herself? I'd give a fortune to know what's going on inside that pretty little head of hers._

"I beg to differ. You're intriguing Miss Steele. In fact, I wish you'd open up more," he whispered so quietly that Ana almost didn't hear him.

She wished she hadn't.

 _Why? There's nothing to tell. I have a complicated past and a tedious present. It's good enough for me, but not for anyone else._

Christian robotically continued to massage her feet. He could see Ana's wheels spinning but he wanted her to make the next move. He had already taken a giant leap of faith, after all.

But Ana's inner thoughts were a comfort she clung to, and she wouldn't give them up to anyone, not even an incredibly persuasive, impossibly handsome billionaire.

 _He doesn't understand that while on the outside I may be a doting little submissive, on the inside I'm snarky and cynical. My thoughts and opinions aren't much but they're my own and I don't like to share them. They're my little secret — one I guard jealously. Your mind is the only thing people can't ever take away from you._

The pitter-patter of drizzle outside was the only sound in the room as they waged their silent tug of war. But in this battle of the sexes, one side was at a distinct disadvantage when it came to patience. Ana wouldn't be bulldozed, while Christian was growing restless.

"I know you heard me," he caved but refused to wave the white flag. "Why aren't you more open with me?"

"If you look inside me, you may not like what you find Mr. Grey," she cautioned. _Most people don't._

"Impossible." _I'm the repulsive one, not you Anastasia._ "Try me."

Her knees felt weak under the burning intensity of his gaze, even though she was lying down. It was her turn to crack under the pressure.

"My submission has its limits Sir," she tried to explain, her voice trembling. "I'm not the obedient, opinion-less girl you're used to or want." _So please let me be. I don't want you to get rid of me just yet._

"Then what kind of girl are you?" _Because I can't for the life of me figure it out._

"A contradictory one Sir — one who's independent on the inside and submissive on the outside. It's simple." _There, happy now? It's not enough that I expose my body to you — apparently now you want everything else as well._

Triumph surged through him. _Holy fuck, I can't believe I actually won that little pissing contest. Miss Steele may give up her secrets to me after all._

But Christian's victory was short-lived. He saw the veins in Ana's neck begin to pulse with resentment. He had ventured into newfound territory for both of them — and taken her too far. _Shit! Reel her back in Grey. But with what? Sex or politics? Definitely sex. I don't need another lecture on Mideast revolutions._

"You're anything but simple Ana," he purred, trying to put a light-hearted spin on their heavy talk. "So what you're saying is that instead of a smart mouth, you have a smart mind?"

His fingers began to caress the outside of her calf as he gave her his best panty-dropping smile. Ana saw through his seduction. That didn't mean it wasn't working.

"I certainly hope so, lest my scholarship be in jeopardy," she said, the heat of his touch melting away her resistance.

"In that case Miss Steele, indulge me in one last question. You wouldn't happen to be badmouthing me in this rebellious mind of yours?"

Christian tried to convey an air of indifference but his anxiety was about as transparent as his seduction.

 _Wouldn't you like to know Mr. Grey? And wouldn't I like to get laid? Yes, I would, so I'll plead the fifth on that one._

"I'll leave that to your imagination, which, based on our scenes in the playroom, is quite fertile." _Hint, hint!_

Ana gave him a sly smile that slipped once she saw the frown marring his otherwise perfect features. _He wants an answer Ana. When are YOU going to take a hint?_

She sighed. "Of course not Sir." _I mostly badmouth myself, but not you._ "You're my Dom. I respect you — immensely." She offered him a genuine smile that went unreturned as Christian looked away.

 _That's it? She has a million different ways to describe the situation in Syria, but that's the best she can come up with about the man who fucks her into oblivion?_

Ana was confounded by the sudden distance between them.

As he stubbornly stared at the fire, she grappled for answers. _What did I do now? There's no pleasing this man. I give him an inch but he takes a mile. How can I be his submissive and verbalize every opinion that goes through my head at the same time? That's impossible! Is this some kind of trap? Is he bored with me already and just fishing for an excuse to break our contract? Shit, I knew all of this was too good to be true._

"I endeavor to be completely honest with you Sir and communicate all my likes and dislikes, just as you've requested," she added in a last-ditch effort to appease him. It failed.

"Do you like our arrangement?"

"Yes."

"And what do you think of me?" Christian pressed on, undeterred by her vague replies.

"I think you're an impressive businessman, an admirable man and a masterful Dom." _What more do you want?_

He didn't know what he wanted — just that he wanted more than generic platitudes.

"And I think you have a wide vocabulary Miss Steele that you use to obfuscate your true feelings," he said, dripping scorn. "But that's fine. I have work to do. I'll leave you to your feelings and the rain. Enjoy the view."

Stunned, Ana reached up to stop Christian before he left. "No wait. Please Sir. This is your home. I'll leave. Don't go," she begged.

"Why Miss Steele? You would rather not divulge harmless tidbits about yourself, which is your prerogative, so I'm simply granting you your wish. Our physical interactions will be strictly confined to the playroom from now on."

Ana began to panic. That's not what she wanted. All she wanted to do was to keep a little bit of her privacy and dignity intact.

"I give people free reign over my body Sir," she squeaked out, visibly shrinking from him. "My thoughts are all that I have left in this world." _So please don't take those away from me too._

The color drained from his face at her panged lament.

"Ana, oh God forgive me," he breathed, all of his anger dissipated. "I, I never meant to push you." _Again_. "I don't want to take from you. Just the opposite. I'd give you anything if you just asked."

He slumped against the sofa in defeat. "If you want to terminate our contract, I'll understand."

"And when are you going to understand I don't want that Sir," she said, suddenly exasperated. "No wonder we need a written contract. We stink at verbal communication."

Her defiance broke the tension, both of them erupting into fits of laughter.

"Jesus Ana, you're too much," Christian said, catching his breath as his laughs subsided. When she looked back up at him, he clasped her hand in his and gave it an affectionate squeeze.

"Listen Ana, I'm all new to this, so please bear with me. I'm neither impressive nor admirable. I'm just an immature ass who throws temper tantrums when he doesn't get his way."

She smiled bashfully. "Well, I'm difficult and closed-off, so we're even."

"We're not Ana," he said earnestly, "and one day you'll realize that, but in the meantime, if you're willing to overlook my faults, I'd love nothing more than to keep you company out here for a little while longer. No questions asked, I swear!"

"I'd like that Sir," she beamed. He lifted his arm to wrap around her, silently asking for permission. She nodded imperceptibly before settling into the crook of his shoulder.

"Are you comfortable?"

"Yes Sir."

"Good. I only have one other request. Less of the Sir. Just Christian outside the playroom."

"Sorry SirrreChristian," she giggled. "Hard habit to break."

"Sometimes it's good to break out of our molds," he murmured, planting a kiss on her hair before both of them dozed off, exhausted and emotionally spent.


	8. Chapter 8

_**AUTHOR'S NOTE: Happy Friday everyone and thank you for the absolutely phenomenal reviews. Depression is not an easy topic to write about and after my other story Sacrifice got slammed on here, I was scared to write this, but your encouragement has really inspired me. And to the guest reviewer who wrote about Perfection, wow — thank you for the praise. Ana's feelings of worthlessness are so ingrained and automatic that she no longer even questions them. She functions in a black-and-white environment, so she can't even possibly fathom that someone like Christian would ever be interested in a submissive, let alone someone like her. It will take time for her to change her pattern of thinking, but they're moving full steam ahead. And speaking of steamy… :)**_

Groggily, Ana opened her eyes only to find herself sprawled out on Christian's chest.

She instantly sprung to her feet, knowing she had crossed yet another line with him this afternoon. _Crap! The man trusted me not to touch his chest and what do I do? I commit the cardinal sin of breaking his number-one rule!_

The sudden movement jolted Christian awake. "What's wrong Ana?" he looked up at her, panic etched on his face.

"I … we fell asleep. I was laying on your chest. I'm so sorry. I didn't know," she began to ramble, twisting her fingers together nervously.

"It's fine Ana. I assure you." _Remarkably, I didn't even feel anything_. "Please sit back down."

She hesitantly took a seat, steadfastly staring down at her lap. Ana had no idea what Christian wanted next. _Sex? Talk? Silence? Sleep? He's the most unpredictable Dom I've ever had._

"Is there something you'd like you to do?" she whispered timidly.

 _Yes. To fuck. You specifically. But considering that I just told you to break out of your mold, that may be a bit hypocritical. I'll be damned though if you're leaving me just yet._

Wordlessly, Christian turned and reclined his head in Ana's lap, much to her astonishment. He noticed her arms dangling uncertainly in the air.

"Would you massage my scalp?" _Not what I'd like you to do with your hands, but it'll have to hold me over for now._

Ana gladly complied. She loved the feel of his soft, silken copper locks.

As her fingers raked through his hair, Christian hummed in appreciation.

It was a rare treat for his mind to turn off, but he found himself doing just that — until he heard the subtle but distinct sound of Ana's heavy breathing.

 _Shit, she's turned on! Oh God, how do I navigate this? I want her so much and I know she's wanted me all afternoon. But she needs to know that I'm not only interested in her for her body. Fuck, it's such a nice body though._

Christian shut his eyes, trying to ignore the soft swell of breasts over him or the searing heat of her sex beneath him.

 _Fuck it!_

Giving in to temptation, Christian gently took her hands in his and rose from her lap.

"Lean back," he quietly instructed, nestling himself between her legs as she stared up at him, entranced by his graceful movements.

He took a moment to admire the specks of blue in her eyes before leaning down to capture her lips, savoring her taste and the faint moans she was making. His kiss started off slow but quickly grew more demanding as her warm breaths washed over him, igniting every cell in his body.

He began to grind his erection into her wet core, their tongues dueling and dancing with each other. Christian's hand snaked down to squeeze and knead her breast, rolling the sensitized nipple between his thumb and forefinger. She loved his adroit, sensual touch and began to tug on his hair, her keening driving him into a frenzy.

He suddenly reared up, his breathing labored and stare feral. "Take off your shirt," he commanded as he helped rid her of her jeans and panties before shucking off his own pants.

He crashed his mouth back down on hers before trailing a line of kisses down the elegant slope of her neck and the supple curves of her breasts. Christian sucked on one bud, his teeth lightly scraping it, while he massaged the other globe with his large hand. His raging erection teased her clit, and all she wanted was to feel him inside of her, filling her to the brink and beyond.

"Please. Please," she mewled desperately, her legs wrapped around him in a vice-like grip.

Christian stopped suckling and moved back up, his face inches from hers as he fisted his cock.

"What do you want Ana?" he breathed, his eyes boring in hers. "Tell me." His voice was strained with lust as his erection easily slid through her drenched folds.

"Inside me." She struggled to form a coherent thought, let alone a complete sentence. "Filling me. Please."

"Oh God," he groaned, granting both their wishes as he plunged deep into her, stopping only once he hit her cervix.

Encased in her perfection, Christian began to plunder her mouth as he grabbed her ass for leverage, pounding into her with animalistic abandon.

Meanwhile, Ana gripped his biceps, reveling in the muscles that bunched beneath her fingertips. "That's it Ana. Hang onto me," he encouraged her, pumping his length in and out of her.

With her breasts pressed against his chest and her moans singing in his ears, Christian knew it wouldn't be long.

One hand shot up to cocoon her head as he stared directly into her eyes, his nose touching hers as he continued to ram into her with all of his might.

"Say my name," he growled. "Say my name when I make you come."

"I, oh God," Ana panted, the coil inside her tightening before finally exploding in blessed relief.

"Christian," she screamed. Her wail rent the room but was drowned out by Christian's own screams as he detonated in a mind-bending climax, his cock twitching wildly while his seed spilled out of her.

He collapsed onto her, prostrate and replete. After several minutes, he lifted his head to reverentially nuzzle his nose with hers.

"Are you alright?" he smiled.

"Very." Her toothy grin matched his.

"Let's get you dressed then Miss Steele," he said, helping her to her feet. "Can you stay for dinner?" Christian failed to hide the hope in his voice.

"I wish I could but I can't," she replied, putting her shirt and jeans back on to avoid the disappointment plastered all over his face. "I would love to," she reassured him, bending down to tie her sneakers. "But I have a 20-page paper due tomorrow that I've been procrastinating on all week. And I can't afford to get a low grade in this class."

Christian nodded his consent, zipping up his pants. The last thing he wanted to do was interfere with her schoolwork or jeopardize her scholarship in any way. _If she'd let me pay for her tuition, it wouldn't be an issue, but either way, I know she takes great pride in her studies._

"I understand," he said amicably as he put a hand on her lower back and walked her to the door. Ana put on her raincoat but was confused when she saw Christian do the same.

"Are you going out as well Sir?" she asked, puzzled.

"Of course. I'm taking you home," he replied, equally befuddled.

"Oh that's not necessary. I live nearby. I'll just do my usual walk."

"But it's raining," he pointed out, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"And I have a raincoat," she said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "And an umbrella," she added to placate him.

"No Ana, absolutely not. It's pouring. You'll get sick. I'll take you," he said, assuming his deep Dom baritone.

 _Crap, I didn't want it to come to this. We were having such a nice afternoon. But he needs to understand that I don't want to be forced into the position of having to rely on him— or anyone else for that matter — ever again. I just can't take that risk._

"Sir…"

"Christian," he corrected her.

"Christian, I like to walk. Honestly. It helps me clear my head. Besides, the rain is letting up."

He stood over her, an unmovable force.

"Please, the transportation provision was included in my…" Ana stopped herself. _Quit hounding him about your rules. He runs an empire. He remembers the fine print of your contract._

"It's still light outside and the rain is about to break. But I promise that whenever it gets dark from now on, I will gladly accept a ride from you," she offered as a concession.

"Fine," he relented. "But text me the minute you get home."

"I will," she beamed, detecting a reluctant smile tugging his lips. Ana took the initiative and gave him an innocent peck on the cheek before leaving. "Goodbye Sir, errr, Christian."

Christian watched as the elevator doors closed and waited a minute before calling out to Taylor.

"I'm heading out," he announced to his head of security, grabbing his keys.

"Alone Sir?"

"Yes." _I don't need you to discover that I've become a full-fledged stalker._

Following his prey, Christian drove his car as discretely — and slowly — as possible, as it crawled behind Ana.

She was walking briskly on the pavement, umbrella in one hand, her iPod in the other as she listened to her favorite songs, carefully avoiding the other people on the sidewalk.

 _What if her iPod gets wet? Will that electrocute her? Get a grip Grey. You jog in the rain all the time. But she's been walking for 20 minutes. She must be tired by now. Just pull over and give her a ride._

He was about to do that when she suddenly crossed the street. He realized she was heading to a small park overlooking the marina not far from her apartment complex.

He found an open parking spot and parked. Ana brushed some droplets of water off an empty park bench and sat down. The rain had stopped and a few rays of sunlight had begun to peek out from the clouds, tickling the water below.

Christian watched Ana like a hawk as she quietly stared out into the horizon, still listening to her iPod.

 _What is she doing? What is going through her mind? What is she listening to?_

But all she did was look off into the distance as the expensive boats bobbed in the water and glorious streaks of pink and orange hues colored the late-afternoon sky.

Finally, after an hour, the sun went down and Ana got up. Christian stared intently as she crossed the street and silently walked into her apartment building.

 _What the fuck was that all about? Was she upset? Is she rethinking our arrangement? Does she often sit outside all alone like that? What if something happens to her when I'm not around?_

The litany of questions swirling in his head was interrupted by the ping of his cell — Ana's text alerting him that she was safely home. He quickly typed out a reply before calling his head of security.

"Taylor," he said gruffly. "I'm going to need someone to do close protection. Round-the-clock surveillance, but covertly. What was the name of that ex-military guy you mentioned to me once before? Sawyer right? Bring him in for an interview first thing in the morning."


	9. Chapter 9

The next morning, during her 9 a.m. maritime treaties course, a familiar name illuminated the screen of Ana's cell phone, startling her.

 **How is your morning Miss Steele? Just wanted to ensure you made it to school alright.**

 _And that you didn't catch a cold from walking in the rain yesterday._

Ana quickly typed out a reply.

 **I'm fine. Thank you Sir…**

She deleted the "Sir" part but still felt awkward using her Dom's first name, so she found a middle ground.

 **I'm fine. Thank you Mr. Grey.**

Christian frowned, ignoring the suit-clad sycophants trying to impress him. He had already met with Sawyer at 7 a.m. and was now in his monthly executive meeting. _Fuck. She's back to formalities. This woman has more walls than Fort Knox._

Meanwhile, Ana's attention had drifted away from her professor and on to a certain CEO a few miles away.

 _Shit. Did he want me to say more than that? He's probably busy. Then again, I don't want to be rude._ She picked her phone back up.

 **How is your day going?**

Christian's face lit up, shocking his employees. "Give me the stats on Delcam's latest performance earnings," he barked before looking back down at his phone.

 **Boring. Mergers and acquisitions is not nearly as exciting as it sounds Miss Steele.**

 **Believe it or not, nor is a class on maritime treaty law. But you know what they say? If work is boring, you need to find a different line of work.**

 _Crap, did I just inadvertently insult his job!_ Before she could hammer out an apology, she heard the unmistakable ping of another text.

 **Do enlighten me then. What are you studying? I have a break between meetings.**

Christian was now fully engrossed in his phone, oblivious to the talking heads trying to curry his favor.

 **I'm learning about how bipartisan gridlock in Congress is screwing over America's interests in the Arctic as climate change opens up commercial shipping lanes and oil exploration opportunities. Thrilling stuff.**

 **Please explain. You have a thrilling way of distilling complex topics. I'm curious to hear more.**

His flattery never ceased to amaze her. No one had ever lavished such praise on her before. She chewed her lip, debating whether to continue her furtive messaging. She had never even once passed a note during high school — not to mention the fact that she had a limited number of text messages included in her phone plan. _Fuck it. I know this lecture inside and out, and I can always pay for extra minutes if I run over._

 **We are actually ceding control over vital resources to economic competitors like Russia and even Norway simply because of reflexive opposition to the signing of the U.N. Treaty of the Sea. Politicians fear it will erode national sovereignty when in fact the only thing it is taking away is money and bargaining power.**

Christian abruptly put a halt to the meeting, citing an important call he had to make before unceremoniously dismissing everyone from the room. He spent the rest of the afternoon holed up in his office, immersed in the intricacies of Arctic passageways and arcane international rulings with Ana via text and email.

That evening, he found himself at an emergency appointment with Dr. Flynn.

"I'm following her around like a fucking lovesick puppy dog John," Christian complained, pacing the room.

"Why?"

"How the fuck should I know," he bellowed, exasperated. "That's what I pay you for. You need to help me remedy this shit and get my head back in the game."

"Again, why?" Flynn asked, ignoring his patient's latest outburst.

Christian tolerated his psychiatrist, but at the moment he was about to deck him in the jaw.

"Because I'm a busy CEO. Because I'm her Dom. Because I'm … ME. So cut the crap John. Tell me how to break this fucking spell she has over me so I can move on with my life and my dignity."

"Is that what you want? To move on? Never see her again?"

Flynn thought Christian might have accidentally given himself whiplash based on how fast his head shot up.

"Of course not. I just want to find a happy medium. This is a distraction. A silly infatuation. I need to get back to my old ways."

Flynn put down his notebook. Christian braced himself for the truth.

"I don't think you want to go back to your old ways — or you would have done it by now. You're clearly fascinated by this girl. Why not at the very least learn more about her?"

"Because John, she shuts me out at every opportunity. She barely deviates from the lines of her stupid contract. There are no gray areas for this woman!" _Or color in her life for that matter._

"Then take it slowly," Flynn counseled his distraught patient. "She is obviously set in her ways and perhaps confused by the attention you are showering on her."

"She's downright disturbed by it. So am I," he grumbled, crossing his arms.

"Yet despite that, you have pushed her for more at every turn. Perhaps before she's able to offer you more of herself, however, you need give her a little more of yourself."

"And how do you expect me to do that? She won't take gifts John. Hell, I'm barred from even buying her a damn Valentine's Day card!"

"There are other ways to express affection than with money." Christian scoffed but Flynn carried on, undeterred by his patient's usual petulance. "If you want to know details about her life, you'll have to share a few from yours as well."

Christian suddenly rose to his feet. "Time's up John. I'll see you next week at our regularly scheduled appointment. In the meantime, I'll consider your advice."

Flynn smiled. _You're welcome._


	10. Chapter 10

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: Here it is — the big reveal! I hope I did it justice. Please be merciful on me! Remember, Ana's emotional problems are not going to be resolved overnight, but this is obviously a major step for both of them. I hope this offers some insights into Ana's thinking. Just FYI, this story really isn't about Elena or Stephen Morton, so they are not going to come up much more. This is strictly about the dynamic between Ana and Christian. There are a few other minor revelations to her story but this is pretty much the crux of her issues. She has been used and let down by people most of her life, and she kicked into self-preservation mode to get herself through it — not in a healthy way, but a lot of people don't respond to life's obstacles in a necessarily "healthy" way. She survived, and for her that's all that matters and it's actually a source of pride. Unfortunately, she is also very indifferent about her past and her future, which to me is a hallmark of depression. Anyway, I hope that makes sense! Please review and share your thoughts.**

Christian's impatience got the best of him and he had requested Ana's company Tuesday night. He was angry with himself for squandering his one contracted night during the week so soon. Now, he wouldn't be able to see Ana again until the weekend, but he just couldn't help himself. _I think it's time to revise that sacrosanct contract of hers to open up a few more nights during the week._

With his arm slung possessively over her shoulder, Christian watched as Ana sat enthralled by the latest episode of "The Real Housewives" that he had recorded for her. They were lazing around on the sofa watching television, a rarity for both of them. At first, they were a bit stiff and awkward with each other — it all felt a bit too domestic for their tastes. But as the name-calling and cat fights ensued on TV, they both relaxed and curled up against one another.

Once the episode came to an end, the preview for next week showed a Botox, bleached blonde woman throwing wine at one of her similarly facially-frozen friends. Christian turned to Ana and smirked. "Reminds me of a certain blonde we both know," he winked.

Ana chuckled. "Ah yes, Ms. Lincoln. She's quite a piece of work."

"What do you think of her?" he probed, curious.

"She's whatever," Ana shrugged. "A means to an end. She seems to know the business well and ensures that everything is done safely, so that's what was important to me. She's shrewd, a bit snide but competent." _Not exactly someone I'd have a girls' lunch with, but since I have no girlfriends anyway, that's a pretty moot point_. An unbidden thought suddenly popped into her mind.

"I apologize if she's your friend." Ana looked up at him apprehensively. "I didn't mean to insult her."

"It's fine," he laughed. "She is all those things — and much more. We were friends for several years but we've grown apart. Our interactions are now strictly professional."

"Oh I'm glad," Ana smiled, resting her head back into the crook of his shoulder.

"In fact," Christian hedged, Flynn's advice echoing in his mind, "we did share a close relationship once before."

"Oh," Ana said softly, an unfamiliar pang of jealousy welling within her. But it was not her place to be jealous, so she continued to stare out the window, not wanting to make Christian uncomfortable.

"She introduced me to BDSM at age 15."

"Oh," Ana repeated, unsure of how to respond.

Christian was equally unsure, so he just decided to embrace Flynn's advice wholeheartedly and throw caution to the wind. He reached over for the remote to turn off the TV but kept a strong grip on Ana.

"You see, I was an angry teenager. Violent some of the time. Drunk most of the other times. It all stemmed from my difficult birth environment. I was adopted into my family at the age of 4," he explained, purposely leaving out the gory details. "By 15, I was a hormone-fueled, fucked-up kid who couldn't allow anyone to get close to me because of my touch issues. I disappointed my adoptive parents. I disappointed all the girls who tried to ask me out. But mostly, I disappointed myself. I was a horny, pissed-off walking hard-on. Then one day, Elena, a family friend, offered me a solution and helped me channel my frustrations and allowed me to experience intercourse without touching. From there, I was her sub until the age of 18. We switched roles until I was 21, at which point we formally ended our arrangement and I took on other subs as I built up the business."

Silence permeated the room. Christian held Ana tightly to him, fearing she might bolt if he let her go.

"I see," Ana ruminated, stubbornly staring out her favorite window.

"Feel free to express your opinion Ana. I figure most people would be outraged and wouldn't approve of her actions. It doesn't faze me. It's ancient history at this point."

"It's not my place to express an opinion. It's your life and your past. Who am I to judge?" _The same thing happened to me at the same age._

Christian stared at her in disbelief. Ana felt his eyes penetrating her defenses.

"In many ways it mirrors my own experiences," she said in a frail, hesitant whisper.

Christian's eyes grew as wide as saucers, his breathing labored. _No baby, please don't say that. I figured you started early, but I never wanted that for you. No one deserves that._

Ana pondered her dilemma. Every day was a slippery slope with Christian that established yet another chain in the bond they were forming — which in her mind brought her one step closer to disappointment when that bond would be inevitably broken. She didn't want to add Christian to casualty count of people who flitted in and out of her life. She wanted to enjoy his company for whatever time she had with him. But she also knew that it was only fair to reciprocate after he had opened up to her, even if it meant cutting their time together short.

"I'm not purposely trying to be evasive about my past SirreeChristian," she paused, unable to get the hang of calling him by his first name. "You've seen my background check. My sob story is fairly clear-cut. I don't like to dwell on it because I don't want pity — nor do I want my past to dictate my future."

His breath hitched. _That's exactly what it's done to me since I was 4 years old._

"You don't need to tell me Anastasia. I mean it. Your past is none of my business." His voice was sad but sincere.

"There's not much to tell, quite frankly. My mother was most likely clinically bipolar and battled severe depression. It was a vicious cycle — no money, no job prospects, no health care. So she self-medicated with drugs during her lows and men during her manic highs."

Christian sat riveted, hanging on Ana's every word, even though her voice was flat and monotone. He instinctively hugged her closer to him. "That sounds like plenty to tell Ana, but you don't have to share it with me if you're uncomfortable. I swear. I won't pressure you this time. I've learned my lesson."

She savored the safe haven of his arm and burrowed her face into his neck, inhaling his masculine scent. On the one hand, she didn't want to lose Christian. On the other, it didn't really matter. She learned a long time ago that life is much easier when you don't expect much from it.

By now, she was thoroughly and irrevocably indifferent. _That's the beauty of depression, and the ugly part of it. You just don't care any more — not about what happened to you, or about what will happen. It's both oddly liberating and utterly devastating. At least apathy is consistent though. I'd hate to be bipolar — like my mother. I'd hate waking up every morning not knowing how you'll feel — a prisoner to the whims of your mood, like an invisible puppet-master controlling all the strings. Down is better than up AND down._

Ana snapped out of her maudlin reverie. "It's OK. I can continue if you want. I honestly don't mind." Her eyes never left the window. _I'll tell you everything you want to know but I refuse to look at you while I'm doing it, because the disgust written on your face is the last thing I need to see._

"Yes, I would like that, but only if it's what _you_ want Ana."

"It doesn't really matter to me now," she sighed. "Growing up, all I wanted was a mother, but she was unable to provide that. She did what she could for me, but she could barely take care of herself, let alone a child, so I largely fended for myself. She OD'd when I was 12," Ana said plainly, time having long since blunted the impact of those words.

Christian looked down at Ana, a sheen of sweat on his brow. Her breathing was shallow but her eyes were dry and vacant. He dropped a slow, tender kiss on her forehead before nestling her body closer to his.

"My birth mother OD'd when I was 4. She was a prostitute and her pimp would beat me. That's where the scars come from. Cigarette burns," he revealed.

Ana shivered at the eerie parallels. "I'm truly sorry you had to endure that Christian," she murmured, her heart clenching at the visual.

"I'm sorry for what you endured Anastasia. You had to do it for much longer than I ever did."

"Trauma is trauma. Time is irrelevant," she observed, as if in a trance.

"You have a beautiful mind Ana. I could never be as eloquent as you." Flustered, she glanced up and gave him a shy smile, which he reciprocated with a sweet kiss.

After pulling away, he sighed. "I was left alone with her body for several days before the cops came. I mostly remember the extreme hunger — hence my obsession with food."

"I'm so sorry! I had no idea," Ana exclaimed, recalling how much grief she had given him about her eating habits. "We can revise the contract…"

"Absolutely not! I don't ever want you to feel bad about _anything_. You've probably had enough of that to last two lifetimes. The contract is fine." _And largely moot anyway._

Her eyes veered toward the floor-to-ceiling window again, hypnotized by the dreary Seattle skyline. "Life is random, as is luck. I stopped obsessively trying to analyze why bad things happen to good people a long time ago, because there is little rhyme or reason to it. There's also little time to feel sorry for yourself in foster care anyway. Everyone there was dealt a shitty hand. The social workers were overworked and underpaid, and the kids were just trying to get by, not make new friends. So I learned to turn inward and rely on myself."

A foreboding sense of unease gripped him. "Do you want to tell me about it? You don't have to," he reiterated.

"It's fine. You've read my medical file. You know I'm on antidepressants and can deduce what they're for. Like my mother, I dealt with depression, but I wound up turning to self-harm," she mumbled, holding back the sardonic laughter that always bubbled on her lips when she said the words "self-harm." _What an anodyne term for slicing your skin open so you can watch it bleed out._

Christian gasped, while Ana shut her eyes. He had known about the depression, but not the cutting.

"I've never seen any marks on your skin," he quietly remarked. _Just a few faint scratches._

"I became quite skilled at cutting just deep enough so as not to leave permanent damage. It's amazing how adept you can become in learning how to heal from wounds — the physical ones at least."

His heart seized at the thought of Ana destroying the body that now consumed his every waking moment. The image of red blood stood in stark contrast to her beautiful pale skin and made him want to hurl. _Then again, I've coped with my demons by inflicting pain on others. She just does it to herself. In a way, I take the cowardly way out._

Meanwhile, Ana felt more raw and exposed than she ever had — whether shackled naked to a cross or slashing open her skin.

 _I know. I'm a freak. Enjoy your last day with this guy Steele. But it's like those Band-Aids you used to religiously rely on to cover up your mutilated skin. Just rip it off and tell him the whole sordid mess. It's too late now anyway. He sees you for what you are, just like those people who came around shopping for shiny new children to take home. It's why you never got picked no matter how much you tried to clean up your act during show-and-tell._

"Foster families aren't exactly lining up to adopt you when you've got gashes all over your arms and legs," she snorted derisively before catching herself. "But I would prefer not to discuss that Sir, although I can continue if you'd like."

"No, I mean, yes. Shit," he stumbled over his words. "I mean talk about as much or as little as you want Ana. I'm here. No judgment. And Christian, please. No Sir."

She smiled in gratitude. "I've already started. Might as well finish. It's not some giant secret. I've recited it by memory to countless shrinks."

Christian gave her shoulder a sympathetic squeeze. "I know the drill," he commiserated.

"Eventually my 'long-lost' distance uncle offered to take me in. He was actually just one of my mother's former boyfriends. He put me up, fed me, enrolled me in school, etc., but I was under no illusions. I remembered him while he was with my mother. He wasn't physically abusive, but an asshole nonetheless. At least he was upfront about being an asshole, though. I'll give him credit for that."

Ana's voice grew faint as the blood whirred in Christian's ears.

"What did he do?" he croaked. This time, his question wasn't a request. The air was thick with apprehension on his part, and resignation on hers.

Ana took a fortifying breath to compose herself. "He knew I was a cutter, so he offered me an alternative, much like Ms. Lincoln did for you."

Dread paralyzed him. He knew what she was about to say next, but it shattered him nonetheless.

"He introduced me to BDSM."

Christian's chest began to heave so rapidly that he felt light-headed. As the room spun before him, he forced himself to keep listening, even though all he wanted to do was scream and punch his fist through a wall. Ana risked a glance at him. Other than the flare of his nostrils, Christian's stoic façade reassured her that he was unaffected by her revelation, so she continued with her story.

"He said he wanted me to be his submissive and that it would provide an outlet for me to channel my self-loathing. He said he'd discovered it a few years after he dumped my mother. I was 15 but I wasn't naïve. That's impossible after spending time in foster care. His offer was as much about my addiction to pain as it was about his own depravity and desires, but I also knew my options were limited."

Christian's heart constricted as he drew blood in the palm of his tightly balled fist. _She was the same fucking age as me. She was a God damn child._ He ignored the fact that Elena also initiated a child into the lifestyle, choosing instead to focus his fury on one man.

"What's his name Ana?" he demanded, his voice laced with restrained menace. _I'm going to enjoy watching him die the miserable death he deserves._

"Stephen Morton. He's gone now. Killed two years in a car crash. He was driving drunk but thankfully no one else was hurt."

"Good. I'm glad he's dead." _But now I can't murder him with my bare hands._

"Yeah, I wasn't exactly broken up about the news either. He was a monster," Ana shrugged, unaware of the inner turmoil brewing next to her. "But at least there were no games with him. He offered me the choice of being his submissive or I could go back into foster care of my own free will. He was upfront about what BDSM involved and I made the decision of my own volition. It was only my body. I felt it was a small price to pay for some stability and an education, and possible future independence. He even helped me see a psychiatrist to deal with the depression part."

Christian raked his hand through his disheveled hair. "Don't do that Ana. Don't justify what that bastard did to you. He took away your innocence, your choices, your freedom."

"Poverty curtails your freedom anyway," she said, blasé yet still bitter. "Besides, after my mother's death and three years in the foster care system, I was pretty much comatose by that point. Truth be told, between the antidepressants and submission, the cutting finally stopped. I no longer had to spend half my day trying to cover up the marks I'd made on my skin during the other half. It was like a 10-ton weight had been lifted off my shoulders, and it made the BDSM routine tolerable. Studying become my way out — both mentally and physically, since it offered me the chance to escape my circumstances. And that's what I did. I got my scholarship and left when I turned 18. Stephen didn't stop me. We each held up our end of the bargain I suppose."

A lone tear escaped Christian's eye. _Her recollections are so mundane, like she's rattling off a grocery list._

"More like a pact with the devil Anastasia," he said, panged.

"I suppose, but it is what it is now. Like I said, it was only my body."

The defeat in her declaration slayed him.

"Instead of the high I got from cutting skin, I was able to derive a high from the crack of a whip. It's not ideal, but people do what they can in order to survive," she mused almost to herself, catching him off-guard yet again.

"Ana," he whispered, swallowing down his shock. _The last thing I want to do is make her feel bad, but she has to know that there are better ways of surviving._ "I'm the king of coping mechanisms and about the only healthy thing I do in my life is eat right and work out, but all of this — the depression, the cutting," he gulped, "the BDSM. Aren't these all just ways to avoid facing the truth, no matter how brutal it is?"

"Probably," she readily admitted. "But I spent years facing the truth of my mother's death — and her tormented life. I was plagued by it every second of every day. I was haunted not so much by her because I didn't really know her, but by the questions. Could I have done something differently? Could I have prevented her downward spiral?"

He reverentially stroked her hair. "You were only a child Ana. There's absolutely nothing you could've done."

"That doesn't stop the doubts," she protested, her voice rising to a fevered pitch. "What good did confronting the truth do me? Did it change what happened? Bring her back? No, not one bit. All it did was change _me_! It made me turn to a knife to find some relief from the constant second-guessing in my head. And that just added another layer of guilt to all my neuroses. Every day, I swore to myself I would stop the cutting. And every day I would beat myself up all over again for failing to resist the compulsion; for being so fucked-up; for being too weak to just end it altogether," she hiccupped, tears threatening to swamp her. It was the first time Christian saw a crack in her veneer of ambivalence and it shredded any pretense of his feelings for this woman. The thought of Ana not existing was too much for him to bear.

"No baby no," he choked out, clutching her to his chest, her head firmly pressed on his no-go zone. "Don't ever say that. Don't even think it."

Christian rocked her trembling body back and forth until her sobbing eased. Ana was too far-gone to notice that she was touching his forbidden areas or that he had referred to her as baby. But she was acutely aware that she had never openly cried in front of anyone since hearing the news of her mother's overdose. Ana quickly pulled back and dashed away the stream of tears, mortified.

"Here," Christian sheepishly offered her his sleeve.

Ana shook her head, wiping the last remnants from her cheeks. "I'm fine, really. I'm sorry…"

"Don't," Christian said, solemnly cradling her face, his thumbs grazing the damp skin. "Don't ever apologize to me for _anything_."

The adoration in his eyes unnerved her. _No one has ever looked at me like he does. Is this what pity looks like? Is this him realizing that I'm not submissive material and he's letting me down easy? Oh God, I've broken so many barriers between us that there's hardly any point to even having the contract any more. And then what? The only chain linking us together will be severed and we'll be over — and I don't want that yet damn it!_

The realization of how much she'd divulged — and how much she had to lose — hit her hard.

"But I am sorry Christian. I'm a submissive. It's what I do. It's who I am," she said, crossing her arms protectively around her chest, her self-preservation mode kicking into high gear. _And I don't want you to find someone to replace me just yet, so let me be the kind of submissive you need!_

Bile churned in his gut. Never had the term "submissive" held so little appeal to him.

"You're so much more than that Ana," he breathed. "I'd give anything for you to see that."

It wasn't that Ana was blind to Christian's affections — it's that she couldn't fathom them. Her mindset was that of a submissive, cemented by years of isolation. It never dawned on her that someone like Christian could be interested in a submissive romantically — it was an oxymoron, after all — let alone that he could possibly be interested in someone like _her_. Ana didn't regret opening up to Christian because she knew that's what he had been angling for all along. _And my ultimate purpose is to please him. I certainly can't risk losing him though by assuming that he wants to take our arrangement to some new level. Those silly school-girl fantasies of a white knight coming in to rescue me died when Morton came to pick me up at the orphanage. If I want to preserve the arrangement we have, I need to enforce it. And he needs to see me for who I am so he gets these ridiculous notions out of his head and we can go back to the way we were._

"I'm damaged Christian. Hell, if I'm fully honest with myself, I'm broken. But I function, thanks in part to BDSM, so that's why I strive to be a good submissive," she tried to reason with him. "And I promise to keep trying with you if you let me."

Christian cringed, recalling his initial description of Ana as damaged goods.

"I'll be fully honest with you then. First of all, you're neither damaged nor broken. I think you're beautiful and brave. Second, I think you have a warped notion of how BDSM works. It may be premised on inequality, but you hold as much, if not more, power than I do. I want to please _you_ too. I want to make _you_ happy," he stressed. "It's not some sterile interaction."

"But it's a sexual one," she pointed out, intrinsically unable to process Christian's words. "And that's all it's really about, which is fine. That's what both parties sign up for, and there's nothing wrong with that. It's what I signed up for because it's what I know — all I know — so you need to let me please _you_ and obey _you_." _So I can keep you_. _I feel like we're talking in circles. Can't he see that I want to be his submissive so that I can be with him too?_

To get her point across, Ana spoke the language with which they were both well-versed. She bowed her head, reverting to her deferential self as her walls came crashing down. Christian's eyes grew wide with fear. _Shit! She's withdrawing into her self-protective shell. Why do we keep talking in circles! Haven't I made it clear that I want to be … her … fuck I don't know what the hell to call it! But I sure as hell don't want this, not any more at least._

"No Ana," he exclaimed, grasping her chin and beseeching her to look at him. "This lifestyle is also about connection, trust, loyalty, caring and mutual respect, all of which I have for you in spades. It's an attachment!" _A real one. Can't you feel it?!_

Ana gazed at him with resigned sorrow. _No, it's an arrangement and there's a difference. An attachment is dangerous territory. An arrangement is safe._

"I don't mean for this to sound callous, but I'm rather ambivalent about attachment. I hardly developed any growing up despite my best attempts, and the few I did have, I either didn't want or could care less about. I'm not only afraid of relationships, but I'm also simply unfamiliar with them. I have no idea how to navigate them."

Pain lanced through him. _Let's face it. It's unchartered water for me too._

"I don't either. But at least I had the good fortune to be adopted into a loving, patient family. And it's not too late for you either Anastasia. I … I can help you if you let me."

She stared at him in confusion. "You are Christian. I like what we have. You're an amazing Dom."

"No I'm not and I can do more — so much more. What about…" _Moving in with me, marrying me._ His intake of air was sharp.

 _Jesus Grey, what the fuck are you thinking? Have you completely lost it?_ He took a slow, deliberate breath to calm his racing mind, dismissing the absurd scenarios running through it. _Be realistic Grey. What can a fucked-up guy like you offer her? Think before you speak and make promises you can't keep._

Ana eyed him expectantly. "I can … what I mean is," he tripped over his words before settling for the path of least resistance. "What about seeing my therapist Flynn? At least start there. He's very good."

"No, I appreciate that but I'm done with shrinks. They're all just overpriced pill-dispensers anyway. I'm done being a human guinea pig for the pharmaceutical industry. I've tried all kinds prescription drugs and struggled with all their side effects. If I wasn't a sedated zombie one day, I was a jittery insomniac the next. I've finally found a basic antidepressant that seems to help a little and that's enough for me. No more experimenting. No more analysis. I accepted my fate a long time ago and it helped me find a certain peace that had eluded me all of my life — an imperfect peace, but peace nonetheless."

She paused to catch her breath, her diatribe strangely cathartic. "As a kid, my mother didn't want me. As a teenager, men only wanted me for my body. Did it disappoint me? Terrify me? Of course. I'm human. But I chose to survive, which I'm proud of. I haven't exactly thrived in this life, but I'm still here and the very last thing I need is pity," she said, the vehemence in her voice taking him by surprise.

"I would never pity you Anastasia," Christian responded with equal ferocity. "I admire the fuck out of you. I care about you, I want to protect you and all I want is to be with you."

"I," she stuttered. "You are. We're together right now."

 _Not like this. All the time. Permanently. For real. Fuck!_ Christian struggled to articulate his feelings.

He clasped both her hands in his. "Don't diminish your strengths Ana."

"Those shouldn't be confused with survival instincts."

He exhaled, deflated. "Oh baby, one day the blinders will come off and you'll see just how amazing you truly are." _And then you'll leave me. But until that day, I'm hanging on to you with every fiber of my being._

Ana gave him a weak smile. She didn't agree with his assessment but was humbled by the unremitting faith he seemed to have in her.

Christian continued to scrutinize her face. She didn't appear angry that he'd pushed her to reveal her story. If anything, she seemed sapped of all emotion, which only further devastated him.

"Is there something I can do Ana? Please just tell me and I'll do it." _Because I'm running out of ideas here._

"Thank you Christian. You've been phenomenal," she smiled, her bottom lip quivering. "But I mean it. I'm fine — just tired _." So incredibly tired … of everything._ "It's getting late …"

"Stay here tonight," he interjected. "I mean just in your room. I know it's not the weekend but it is late and there's no sense in you going all the way back home." _Even though you live 10 minutes away._ "Get some rest and I'll drive you to school in the morning. Please Ana. Allow me to at least do this for you."

He watched her with bated breath. _He's offering you a bed to sleep in and a ride Ana. The least you can do is give him that after he's patiently sat and listened to you spill all your dirty little secrets._

"That would be nice," she whispered. "Thank you."

An hour later, Christian had carefully tucked Ana into bed and was now poring over her paperwork in his study.

Suddenly, he grabbed the phone and punched in the number he knew by heart.

"Elena," he shouted into the receiver. "What the fuck were you thinking bringing on Anastasia given her troubled past? She's in no mental shape to be a submissive!"

"Whoa, what the hell Christian?" Elena said, taken aback. "What are you talking about? Did something happen with Anastasia?"

"It's about what _happened_ to her. She's clinically depressed Elena. You knew her medical history — yet you took her on and contracted her out to Doms." A surge of bile lodged in his throat at the visual of Ana with other men. He quickly shook it off and focused on the task at hand. "You had absolutely zero right to take advantage of a vulnerable girl like that."

"I had every right," she said defensively. "She came to _me_! This is what _she_ wanted. And _you_ knew every detail about her medical history before taking her on as a submissive. So as far as taking advantage of this girl, isn't that a bit of the pot calling the kettle black?" she sneered.

Christian yanked his hair in silent frustration. _The bitch is right. She may be a conniving, vile piece of work, but she didn't trick Ana into doing this. And I'm the one who used her body, just like all the other assholes out there._

The friendship between Christian and Elena had quietly frayed over the years, leaving behind purely business transactions that benefited both of them. Elena provided the girls and Christian provided cachet and money for her services. But those days were officially over now.

Elena finally cleared her throat. "Now that that's settled, why don't you tell me what the problem is Christian? Did Anastasia do something? Do you want to get rid of her? If so, I can send over another…"

"NO! Absolutely not. She's mine. You are to have no contact with her whatsoever from now on or I will ruin everything you have. Is that clear?"

"What the fuck Christian! Don't threaten me. I don't know what the hell has gotten into you but I could give a shit. I don't need this grief. You, on the other hand, will need someone to provide you with future subs, so I suggest you watch it," she warned, enraged by his ingratitude.

"Consider your services no longer needed Elena and our relationship terminated," he coolly replied.

"Fine. Business is brisk and I've got plenty of other clients who act like professionals instead of whiny brats. You want her, you got her. Don't come crying to me when you're sick of her," Elena barked, hanging up on him.

Somewhat satisfied that at least Elena wouldn't bother Ana again, Christian resumed reading her files. He didn't want to acknowledge it but Elena was right. He _did_ know about the depression when he contracted Ana. He had just conveniently chosen to ignore it.

Meanwhile, back in her room, Ana couldn't stop absentmindedly staring at the ceiling. She was positive her meltdown had scared off Christian for good and she felt the chasm in her chest cavity grow at the prospect that tomorrow might be their last day together. But she conveniently chose to ignore it, drifting off into a restless sleep.

 _ **AUTHOR'S NOTE: Naturally, tomorrow won't be their last day together :) That's the good news. The bad news is that I've spoiled everyone with these frequent updates and unfortunately this will be the last update for a while. I have had a few sleepless nights myself pounding out this story and it's time for a rest. Plus, real life will be too crazy the next few weeks, so I'm not sure when the next update will be.**_

 _ **And just FYI, Sacrifice is being updated and coming to a close over on Wattpad.**_

 _ **In the meantime, please review Submission and Strength. I'd love to hear your thoughts. The words of encouragement have really inspired me to crank out this story in record time. And please share with any friends you think might like it. Thanks everyone!**_


	11. Chapter 11

_**AUTHOR'S NOTE: Short and sweet, but I just wanted to send you guys a little treat before the movie trailer tomorrow. Plus, I got ahead on work, a trip got cancelled and the hubby is busy with football so here you go… :)**_

Ana sat in the plush leather backseat of Christian's Audi nervously wringing her hands together. She felt odd being chauffeured around town but that wasn't the source of her anxiety. Christian had been pleasant but preoccupied all morning — and she fully expected him to give her the old heave-ho once he dropped her off at school.

"Ana," Christian finally broke the anticipation-laden silence. "I need to talk to you about something important."

Her stomach sank. "What is it?" she said meekly, concentrating on the twisted fingers in her lap.

"I need to give you something but you probably won't like it."

"OK, just show it to me," she whispered, her her bottom lip trembling.

"Here you go baby." He reached into his briefcase and pulled out a small white box, placing it into her clammy hand. Puzzled, she examined the plastic-wrapped, space-age-looking box, wondering if her terminated sub contract was somehow wedged inside. _Why would he gift-wrap a Dear John letter dumping me? That's creative but pretty cruel._

Christian helped Ana flip the box over so she could see the label. "It's a new iPhone. You told me the other day that our texts were causing overages in your current plan, so I installed a newer plan where you can have unlimited texts, emails, apps etc. That way, we can communicate without you feeling cramped by your phone plan." _Plus, now you can get rid of that flip phone and join the rest of us in the 21_ _st_ _century_.

Ana stared at the box, twirling it around in her palm like a meteor from an alien planet. She knew what an iPhone was — everyone on campus was glued to one — but she had never seen the actual box it came in.

"This is all so we can text each other?" she asked in childlike wonder.

"Yes of course. I respect what you've said about not purchasing you gifts but I felt it was my responsibility to at least provide you with a phone since I was the one using up your minutes. It's only fair," he insisted. "And I installed an app that has over 10,000 books at your disposal," he added, carefully gauging her reaction.

"Wow, that's more books than the school library," she breathed in awe before looking back up at Christian, tears swimming in her eyes. "This is the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me. Thank you!"

Christian's mouth dropped open. The iPod was a pittance. It barely cost him a penny. He was accustomed to giving his former subs cars and jewels that probably totaled millions of dollars. Yet nothing he'd ever given anyone before had elicited such unbridled gratitude.

"You're welcome baby. It's nothing," he stammered, overwhelmed by Ana's joy.

"It's not nothing. It's so much," she said, giving him an incandescent smile.

He promptly reached over to smash his lips against hers, tasting the seam before plunging his tongue deep inside. Ana groaned, temporarily forgetting about the box in her hand.

After several minutes, they broke apart, both breathless. Christian began rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly.

"In the spirit of your newfound flexibility, I wanted to ask you something else." Ana tensed. "If you're available, would you like to meet before our designated Saturday time?"

 _Yes I would! But I can't. I have so much work to do and I can't lose sight of my studies. This has all been like an extraordinary dream but it could still vanish at any moment, and I can't afford to fuck up my education — not after how far I've come. It's all I have._

"I wish I could, but I can't," she said despondently. "I have two papers on top of two shifts at Clayton's."

"Oh," Christian said, deflated. "I understand."

"I can maybe come over a little earlier if you'd like though — say on Friday night instead of Saturday? Only if you don't have plans of course."

Christian smiled. "The only plans I have are with you Anastasia," he purred.


	12. Chapter 12

_**AUTHOR'S NOTE: Hi everyone! I know my updates are unpredictable, but at least they're coming sooner rather than later :) So here's another heavy heart-to-heart. Christian still had to reveal parts of his past, so this is another hurdle they had to overcome. This is pretty much it for his big reveals. Christian is definitely the one with less issues in this story. For once, I wanted Ana to be the tormented one, since Christian's always the one with emotional issue and relationship phobias.**_

 _ **Please review! Your comments give me inspiration and also ideas. On that note, to the guest reviewer who talked about self-harm vs. kink — thank you so much for the amazing words. I was bowled over by them but have to admit I was also somewhat intimidated by them, because I'm not sure I could do such a complicated issue justice. I don't really have an answer for how much BDSM Ana should engage in given her penchant for self-harm, though I tried to at least touch on it as best I could here. Hope it makes sense!**_

After a steady stream of texts and emails, Friday rolled around and Ana walked into Christian's apartment with the enticing smell of homemade soup wafting through the air. She stopped in her tracks when she saw Christian huddled over the kitchen stove, stirring a large pot with a wooden ladle.

 _Is that my Dom cooking — for me?! Holy fuck, I've now officially entered the Twilight Zone._

"You're cooking," she shrieked, frozen to the spot while her purse swayed from her shoulder.

"Hardly," he scoffed, walking over to plant a sloppy kiss on her lips. "More like reheating. I ordered minestrone from that Italian place you like and Gail left me explicit instructions on how to reheat it. That's about as close as I'll ever come to cooking my dear."

"That's still pretty far Christian," she breathed, amazed that he not only went to all this trouble, but that he actually remembered the name of her favorite Italian restaurant. "It's also probably going to taste far better than anything I could ever concoct."

"Ah yes, I remember. How did you describe cooking? I believe your exact words were 'necessary evil,'" he chuckled, his arms wrapped snugly around her waist.

Ana crinkled her nose. "You don't need to remember _every_ single I word say Mr. Grey," she playfully rebuked him.

"You're not the only one with a good memory Miss Steele," he parried back. "Come. Put your stuff down. We'll be taking a break from your exceptional culinary skills tonight, so why don't you go set the table? I'll plate up the soup. It should be warm by now."

"Don't burn it," she quipped, mildly affronted by his "exceptional" dig.

He knitted his brows together. "Can you burn soup?"

"I don't know actually. For most people I assume the answer would be no," she giggled, "but don't worry, I'm sure I'd manage to burn it somehow. Everything in my kitchen has been burned at least twice. I always make sure I have a working fire extinguisher on hand. I'm surprised I haven't singed off my eyebrows yet."

"Good thing you're not in charge then," he smiled, giving her a thwack on her butt as she went to grab some napkins and spoons. _I may be in charge, but you've got me by the balls Miss Topping from the Bottom and Can't Cook for Shit._

They ate in companionable silence. Christian was satisfied just to watch Ana devour her soup. He'd cracked another piece of her puzzle. _It's not that she has a small appetite; she just has a limited one. As long as I get her the few things she does like to eat, her appetite is voracious. Hopefully that carries over to the bedroom later tonight._

Ana was tempted to lick the bowl clean before she remembered her manners. The money on her dining pass had run out for the month and between work, classes and Christian, she hadn't been able to stock up on groceries, though she didn't dare share this tidbit with a certain food-obsessed Dom.

"Mind if I get another bowl?" she asked, her stomach rumbling.

"Be my guest," Christian laughed, unable to contain his glee. "I had them make a second batch for you."

As soon as Ana set the bowl back down, she dove in, flinching when she realized the soup was still scalding hot. _Wow, he might've actually burned it after all._

"Careful! Don't burn your tongue Anastasia."

"No biggie," she mumbled in between mouthfuls. "Doesn't hurt. Not much does."

Christian's ears perked up. "Is that why you turned to BDSM?" he blurted out.

Ana shot him a quizzical brow. "Because you enjoy the pain?" he clarified.

"Well, at first I was forced into it," she remarked offhandedly. Christian winced. "Sorry, I didn't mean to be crude. I was just being honest."

"Don't apologize Anastasia. I love it when you're honest. You don't need to hide anything from me."

Ana finally paused to put her spoon down. "I didn't derive any pleasure from it initially. But after a while, I began to substitute the BDSM punishments for the cutting and …" she trailed off, chewing her bottom lip. Christian took a small sip of his soup but his eyes never left hers.

"Even though _he_ made my skin crawl at first, eventually I suppose the pain turned me on, even though I knew it was wrong," she reluctantly admitted, her face crimson with shame.

"It's alright Ana," Christian reassured her, reaching out to squeeze her hand. "It turned me on too. You have nothing to be embarrassed about. And just because you experienced pleasure from what that bastard did to you doesn't make you any less of a victim."

"Nor you," she quietly reminded him, the specter of Elena hanging over them.

"Touché," Christian sighed, letting go of her hand.

 _Watch it Ana. The last thing he wants to do is to have a discussion about his former mistress — just like you'd rather not shoot the shit about your adopted "uncle." He may be a pretty easygoing Dom, but he's still your Dom — and his past is none of your beeswax._

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that. I just despise that term — victim. It's thrown around so recklessly nowadays in my opinion, almost as if society abuses the word itself. It holds little meaning to me anyway. It's not the prism through which I want to be viewed."

"Nor do I," Christian concurred, captivated by Ana's elegant way of phrasing simple truths. "But you should know that's not how I see you Anastasia. I see you in nothing but a positive light."

Ana's instinct was to come back with something negative about herself, but she tamped it down, not wanting to spoil their dinner.

"I appreciate that. The feeling is mutual," she said, taking another spoonful of soup. _This is delicious. I can't believe he did all this for me. He hasn't even once mentioned the playroom and we haven't been in there since I spilled my guts. I wonder if he feels weird taking me in there now? What if he can't be without it and we're no longer compatible?_

"If I may ask, why have you stayed with BDSM for so long? Is it purely because of your phobia of touch?" Ana asked, feeling unusually bold.

"Mostly," Christian replied, feeling unusually frank. Normally he would be furious if anyone dared to ask him such personal questions, but instead he was ecstatic that Ana was finally taking an interest in him. "But it's also about control. I thrive on it, in both my professional and personal worlds. I crave it in fact. It helps me feel as if I have the power to keep things from falling apart. Too much went to shit in my earlier life, and I never want that to happen again."

"I can certainly relate to that inclination," Ana muttered. She suddenly felt self-conscious again, her outpouring from the other day still fresh on her mind. The last thing she wanted to do was take another trip down memory lane, so she focused on the soup and not dribbling it on her shirt.

"I won't lie to you," Christian continued. "For many people, BDSM is about building intimacy, trust, a connection. I can't say it was ever about that for me, however." _Until you, that is_. "I did not develop a deep attachment with any of my subs. It was about controlling them and, yes, I did derive pleasure from inflicting pain on them."

"That's alright. I took pleasure in receiving it," Ana shrugged. "That was about the extent of my involvement as well."

They exchanged wary glances with one another, each wondering the same thing: _Is it still only about the pain for you?_

"Do you need the pain?" Christian blurted out, curiosity getting the better of him. The lack of control he exhibited around Ana was also getting to him.

"I don't know. I've never known sex without it. Do you?" she asked timidly.

"I've never known sex without it either. But with you, no," he said bluntly. "I've never had vanilla before, but it's been nothing short of spectacular with you."

As always, Ana was taken aback by Christian's candor. Ever the savvy negotiator, he used her shock to his advantage. "Have you enjoyed what we've done so far?" he probed, his voice wobbly and uncharacteristically devoid of its usual sexual swagger.

"Yes," she squeaked, cheeks on fire. "Very much."

Christian marveled at Ana's reticence when it came to _talking_ about sex.

"Me too, immensely," he said, wearing an impish grin.

Ana felt more relaxed — and open — than she had in weeks. "I suppose if I'm honest with myself, BDSM is not just about the pain for me any more, even though I worry that without it, I might revert back to my old ways of self-harm. But it has become a vehicle for enjoying some form of human intimacy. I guess it helps to ward off the loneliness," she quietly confessed, her cheeks flushed again. "I don't mind being alone but sometimes the solitude gets to you. I miss another person's touch, even if it's a painful one."

Ana began shoveling soup into her mouth, desperately trying to avoid the look of shock etched on Christian's face.

"Ana," he whispered her name in venerate supplication. "Don't ever feel ashamed for sharing your feelings. Thank you for being so open with me. I mean it. Thank you."

She gave him a shy smile before her eyes strayed back down to the rapidly disappearing minestrone. Christian watched as Ana inhaled her meal, but his mind invariably wandered to the men who enjoyed the privilege of her touch before him.

"Did you feel an intimate connection with your previous Doms?" he asked, the corrosive aftertaste of jealousy lodged in his throat.

"Ummm, well, my interactions were strictly limited to the playroom," Ana spluttered. _Hell, they barely gave me a second glance outside the playroom once they fucked me._ "That's partly why this setup is so … unusual for me."

Christian grinned. "So in other words, you're saying I'm not your typical Dom."

Ana gave him a knowing smirk. _Understatement of the millennium._

"Typical is certainly not among the adjectives I would use to describe you Mr. Grey."

His chest puffed with pride. "I'm glad to hear that Miss Steele."

Before he could move on from the topic though, there was one last question that had been gnawing away at him ever since their first encounter. "What about the Dom you stayed with for a year? That's quite a long time."

The atmosphere in the room plummeted, on both sides of the table.

"He was a respectful Dom who kept his distance, so I renewed our contract, but then he began to take a personal interest in me outside of our scenes." A shadow passed over Christian's face. _The same fucking thing I'm doing. Shit._

"It made me uncomfortable at first because I wasn't expecting the attention, that's all," she rushed to add, wanting to smooth out the worried creases on his face. "I made it abundantly clear that I didn't want to engage in any sort of personal interaction outside the playroom — it was always stipulated in my contracts. But I suppose, ummm, it's inevitable that after months of being, ummm, intimate with someone that some, ummm, feelings would develop." _Jesus Ana, you can recite Shakespeare's "Macbeth" but all of a sudden you sound like some granola-crunching, tongue-tied meditation instructor._

Christian's jaw ticked with barely suppressed rage.

"I did try talking with him, but it felt wooden. Our conversations were always so stilted. The spark we shared in the playroom didn't translate outside of it," she elaborated. "That's not why I ultimately ended it though."

"Then why Miss Steele?" Christian's tone was decidedly frosty, though underneath he was burning with intrigue.

"I found out through the community that he had seriously injured a prior submissive. Her shoulders were dislocated and it took her months to recover. He swore it was an accident and that he didn't tell me about it because it was a dark time in his life that he didn't wish to revisit because he was still a novice Dom and he had hurt his sub. I don't believe he did it intentionally — he never once exceeded my limits — but the fact that he failed to disclose it to me even though I explicitly asked if he had any prior incidents with his subs frightened me. I felt deceived and it made me wonder if I could trust him. After that, I just couldn't go back into the playroom."

"I see," Christian said, suddenly introspective. "That makes sense. Thank you for explaining."

Content that she had passed Christian's latest inquisition, Ana went back to her soup. Christian, meanwhile, couldn't stomach his.

She had finally confided in him, but his joy was tempered by an unwelcome flash of guilt.

 _She's bared her soul to me — all of it, her mother, Morton, her loneliness, her need for pain and for human contact. I keep singing her praises for opening up to me, but I haven't done the same. I haven't been completely honest with her. But how do I tell her about the other sick reason that drove me to BDSM without losing her? I've come too damn far to lose her now! But if she gets wind of my fucked-up-ness months from now, she'll dump me like her last Dom. And then where will that leave me? I'm already obsessed with her after only a few weeks. Imagine what I'll be like after a few months? I can't keep deceiving her. Even that piece of shit Morton was honest with her in his own demented way. She's too fucking good for this — for me. She's also too damn smart. She'll figure out your dirty little secrets eventually Grey, so just spit them out and spare yourself the inevitable heartache!_

Christian pinched the ridge of his nose, his eyes slammed shut. "Ana, there's something else I need to tell you while we're on the subject. My fear of touch and need for control aren't the only reasons I've engaged in this lifestyle." He expelled a tormented breath. Ana held hers.

"My submissives all look like my birth mother, the crack whore who neglected me as a child. I suspect that beating them fulfills some deep-seated need to punish her," he said in a rush, as if it might somehow lessen his depravity.

Ana's fork fell with a loud clang on her plate, soup splattering on the white linen table. She felt nauseous — and used.

 _Oh God, he hits me because I remind him of his mother?! What the hell kind of sadistic Freudian complex is that?! And what the fuck were you thinking Ana that you could ever be more than a whipping post for any man? All of your other Doms got their rocks off by hitting and fucking you. This one gets his rocks off by imagining you as his crack-addicted dead mother and THEN fucking you! He's only interested in you because you remind him of the worst memory of his life! I'm such a damn fool. When will I ever learn?_

Before Ana's bottom lip even began to quiver, though, Christian had already yanked her onto his lap, his arms encircling her in a cage-like grip.

"Ana, don't," he murmured against the top of her head. "Please don't overthink this. You're not like her. You're not like any of the others. Just hear me out. Please don't start to question yourself — or us."

 _That's like asking me not to breathe! I don't know how to get out of my head — it's built into my DNA. I'm still getting used to us being friendly outside the playroom, and now you drop this mommy bombshell on me? How the hell do I not question myself when you make me question everything I know!_

Ana began to cry, burrowing her face into his neck. Her body was trapped by his strong arms but the distance between them grew as Christian felt Ana retreat from him in disgust.

"Please don't cry," he begged. "Please don't … leave."

The vulnerability in his plea snapped Ana out of her haze. She craned her neck to look into his eyes — hers red and puffy and his scared and mournful.

"Do you picture her when we…"

"No," he pre-empted her forcefully. "I vaguely have certain features I look for in a submissive — brown hair, pale skin — but that's it. Maybe that seed of resentment is there in the beginning, but Flynn has taught me that it's not my sole motivation. In fact, he's been teaching me not to dwell on it. I practice this lifestyle because I like being a dominant, because I enjoy being in control and because I hate being touched. That's the crux of it. Yes, I have other issues but please don't judge me too harshly because of them."

Christian framed her tear-stained face with his hands, tilting her head closer to bridge the yawning chasm between them.

"Christian, I'm the last person on the planet who has any right to judge someone else, but it's hard to wrap my head around this," she sniffed. "I'm your sub and I abide by your rules — regardless of the reasoning behind them — but knowing that I resemble your birth mother has just rattled me."

Christian rested his forehead against hers, willing her to believe him.

"Ana, listen to me. I don't think of her when I see you. There's zero comparison. I only wanted to be completely honest with you. I didn't want to make the same mistake your former Dom did. I've never shared this with a single soul other than my psychiatrist. I certainly didn't say it to upset you or make you doubt yourself. I only told you because I want to be open with you — the way you've been with me. I want this to work."

Ana nodded, speechless — both by his heart-filled entreaty and by his still somewhat disturbing revelation.

Christian sensed her reluctance. "Ana, I don't want barriers between us," he whispered, overcome by the fear that his words weren't enough to convince her to stay. So he gripped her tiny hand in his and splayed it directly over his heart.

"No, I don't want to hurt you," she exclaimed, horrified, wrenching her hand back.

"And I don't want to hurt you," Christian thundered.

Ana jumped. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to yell you." He stroked her cheek before threading his fingers through her hair, his other arm slung tightly over her shoulder so that her chest was pressed up against his.

"I'm just trying to convey to you that you're different, you're … special to me. I know this has become a rather unorthodox arrangement, but I want to continue to explore it and see where it leads. Can't we just play this by ear, day to day? If you need the playroom, I'll oblige you, but I have no compulsion to hurt you. I want you to be yourself around me, and not feel constrained by rules and punishments. I like our kink, I like our vanilla, I like whatever this is that we have and I want to keep it. Please don't go. Stay."

Ana felt dizzy from the whirlwind that was Christian Grey. She never knew if she was coming or going with this man. All she knew was that she was perpetually mesmerized by those grey eyes that seemed to obliterate every reason she could come up with to leave.

 _For once in your meager existence Ana, stop trying to figure everything out and get out of your head. The man found out that you used to slice your skin open for kicks and was molested by your dead mother's long-lost boyfriend, yet the very next day, he buys you a phone so he can stay in constant touch with you. He's a roller-coaster of issues himself, but who isn't? Just stay and enjoy the ride for as long as you can — repercussions be damned._

"OK, I'll stay, but on one condition."

Christian's face lit up in disbelief. "Anything baby." He lovingly brushed a wayward lock of hair from her face.

"No more confessions. I've had enough for one night," she giggled lightly, the sound sending his heart, and hopes, soaring.

Christian slammed his mouth onto hers, stealing what was left in her oxygen-deprived lungs. Their lips collided, spurred by a newfound sense of liberation as each decided to take a chance on the other.

After several minutes, they pulled back, both panting heavily. "I promise, no more confessions," Christian said, still dumbstruck that Ana decided to stay. He picked her up bridal style and carried her over to her favorite couch. "I think we've done enough talking for tonight anyway."


	13. Chapter 13

_**AUTHOR'S NOTE: Another short chapter but one that touches on the important subject of money. Kudos to those who picked up on the hunger thing in the last chapter. Please keep reviewing :)**_

After making love to Ana twice and settling her into bed, Christian was hammering away at the keys of his piano, a pall of doubt hanging over him.

 _I can't believe I told her how twisted I was. Hell, I can't believe she stayed. She really is brave. What is this girl doing to me? Have I gone too far? We're both treading on such thin ice here. Should I revert back to our traditional roles before either of us gets hurt? No, that fucker Flynn is right. I have no interest in going back to my old ways. This girl is more than an infatuation, or just a sub for that matter. I don't know what the hell this is, but I do know I have no intention of stopping it._

Suddenly, the sound of someone rummaging through the refrigerator broke him out of his musings.

Christian darted to the kitchen only to catch Ana holding the plastic container of leftover soup, her eyes round with worry.

"Oh, I'm sorry," she stammered. "I didn't realize I was making so much noise. I hope I didn't interrupt you. I was just a little hungry. It can wait till morning though. I'll go back to bed."

"No absolutely not," he objected, coming over to grab the container from her. "Go sit down and I'll reheat this for you."

Awestruck by his domesticity, Ana blindly took a seat on one of the barstools.

"Why are you still hungry?" he asked as he popped the soup into the microwave, his tone vaguely accusatory. _You inhaled two huge bowls earlier._

"I guess I just liked the soup so much. Minestrone's my favorite," she shrugged.

"Did you have lunch today?"

"Ummm, yes. I probably just worked up an appetite from earlier," she teased.

Christian smirked, but saw through her diversion tactic.

"Ana, tell me the truth. You're biting your lip so hard it's about to sprout blood. I can tell you're lying." He put the soup and a spoon on the counter and took a seat next to her.

"I might've skipped lunch today," she confessed, taking a mouthful as she prepared herself for the backlash.

"What the hell? Why would you skip lunch? You only had a few classes today on campus and you weren't working at that damn hardware store." _And I'm not saying that I know your schedule, but I know every inch of your schedule and you had two hours blocked off for lunch._ "Answer me Anastasia," he demanded, his tone brooking no dissent.

Ana took another sip of soup, her hands shaky with the realization that she'd be forced to fess up.

"The money on my dining pass ran out," she mumbled. "It will get replenished next week though," she promptly added.

"Why didn't you just go out and buy some food?" he continued to grill her.

"I didn't have time," she said, withering under his intense glare. _No wonder everyone seems to cower before him. He's more intimidating than the pope!_

"You had over two hours. Don't give me that crap. Answer the question Anastasia," he barked.

 _Fuck, he's like a rabid dog. Just put both of you out of your misery._

"My next check from Clayton's hasn't come in yet. When it does, I'll stock up on groceries then."

Ana jumped when Christian screeched his chair back, the chalkboard-like scratch echoing through the room.

"In other words, you didn't have enough money for food! What the fuck Ana!" He began violently pulling his hair. "That's beyond unacceptable. I'm done with this nonsense. I'm paying for your food from now on, in addition to your rent and tuition so you don't have to drag yourself to that damn hardware store every other day. This ridiculousness ends now!"

"No," she screamed with conviction, rediscovering her voice. She hopped off her seat and stood directly in front of him, arms crossed. "I'm not some charity case! Just because I have to budget when I go grocery shopping doesn't make me a freak. In fact, it makes me similar to most of America! I respect your hang-ups about food, but I wasn't starving myself. I knew I was coming here for dinner and staying for the weekend — and I didn't exactly think you had an empty fridge. I was just waiting until Monday to stock up my own fridge. This doesn't all of a sudden negate the limits in my contract. I may not be rich but I'm not poor either. You can look at my checkbook if you want. There may not be much in there, but it's well-managed and it's all mine — and I won't let anyone take that away from me."

Christian stared down at the tiny spitfire that barely reached his shoulders, speechless by her passion — and audacity. He knew he'd touched a nerve but didn't know how to let the issue go.

"Ana what do you expect me to do?" He turned away, waving his arms in exasperation. "I've told you that I care about you. I've told you about my past and why food is so important to me. I spend millions of dollars ensuring that people are fed around the world. Do you really think I can just watch you of all people go hungry? You're going to have to meet me halfway here, because I won't let this one go Anastasia."

"Christian, please try to understand where I'm coming from. I can't allow you to start paying for everything," she beseeched him. "It's not wise. It's insulting. And above all, it's not who I am."

"And letting the woman I care about go hungry is not who I am," he shouted, startling her. He took a calming breath, approaching her and gently clasping her arms. "Look Ana, you have to at least let me pay for your groceries," he bargained, trying to find some middle ground. "I'm willing to let the rent and tuition go." _For now._ "But you need to compromise with me on this."

Ana looked into his pleading eyes, picturing a 4-year-old boy scavenging for food while his dead mother lay on the kitchen floor. "OK," she relented. "But just the groceries. Please. It's important that I not take advantage of you. I'm not here because of your money Christian."

"I know that Ana. That's the least of my concerns," he said, dropping a kiss on her forehead. "Feeding you, however, is at the top of my list of priorities. So I'll have someone deliver groceries to you from now on and I'll replenish your dining pass tomorrow. Deal?"

She quirked a disapproving brow at him. "Your introducing gifts by stealth."

"And I'm getting a taste of that fiercely independent streak you'd talked about earlier. I'm not sure how much I like it though," he smiled, relieved their spat was over. "Are you done with your soup?"

"Yes, I'm full. I promise," she vowed, an amused giggle escaping her lips.

"What's so funny Miss Steele?" Christian smiled, her good mood contagious.

"It's just that I made you promise no more confessions tonight, and here I go a few hours later confessing something else to you. It's like we're at church and we just can't help ourselves." Her infectious laughter eased his earlier torment.

"We better call it a night then before we confess all our sins. Come on, let's get your obstinate butt back into bed. I swear woman, you're going to the death of me."

Ana laughed in mock outrage. "Me? I'm surprised you haven't given yourself a coronary yet! At this rate, your hair will grow grey by the time you're 30 Grey!"

"It most certainly will if I don't get some sleep, so let's turn in. Besides, we both need the rest. I have a surprise for you tomorrow," he said, leading her by the hand back to her bedroom. Christian briefly pondered taking her into his room, but after the hissy-fit she threw about strictly enforcing the terms of her contract, he didn't think that would be wise.

"I think I've reached my quota of surprises," she muttered, crawling under the covers.

 _Not yet my dear._ Christian grunted, turning off the light before laying down beside her. He ignored her surprised gasp and spooned her from behind, draping an arm around her waist.

"Quit being a smartass and go to sleep," he joked.

"Yes Sir," she grinned, closing her eyes.

 _Finally, she obeys me. Enjoy it while it lasts Grey._


	14. Chapter 14

_**AUTHOR'S NOTE: Here's a somewhat fun chapter (after all, who doesn't like a jealousy-fueled lemon?) but there are some serious notes to it. As FSOGFanFictionAddiction said, Ana is like a rose — they both are in fact. I hope each chapter peels away at the layers these two characters have been hiding behind. It won't be easy — both of them are still trying to navigate this idea that they're more than just dom and sub. Christian doesn't want to be only known as her Dom, though he doesn't realize that yet. You'll also start to see that Christian in particular has problems separating his newfound caring side with his old Dom persona. Ana's depression also hasn't gone away, so that's another issue that will come up. But enjoy this break!**_

 _ **And to the guest reviewer who mentioned a "Medley of Colors," thank you! I have to admit I never thought of the minestrone metaphor (I just happen to like minestrone). You give me too much credit. I think your reviews are sometimes far more insightful than my stories ;)**_

"The surprise is just around the corner," Christian winked, oozing excitement as he guided her down the dock.

Ana bit the inside of her cheek. She knew exactly what was around the corner but didn't want to ruin the surprise. _It doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure out that when a billionaire says he has something to show you at the marina, odds are it's going to be a boat. And odds are it's going to be a big boat. But don't poop on his parade Ana. Besides, it's kind of fun to see your hard-nosed Dom act like a giddy schoolboy._

"Tah dah," he said, proudly revealing a sleek, gleaming vessel that seemed to stretch for miles as it floated on the water.

"Wow, it's huge," Ana said, feigning surprise. _Yep, a big boat. In fact, it's the biggest one out here. Boys and their toys. At least I know Christian doesn't have some Napoleon complex._ A devilish grin crept on her lips. _I know for a fact that he's got nothing to prove when it comes to the size department._

Christian came up behind her. "Earth to Ana. What do you think?" he asked, eagerly gauging her reaction.

"Huh? Oh, it's impressive," she said, shaking off her salacious thoughts. "But then again, I'd expect nothing less from you."

He frowned. "I can't tell if that's a compliment or a backhanded slap."

Ana cringed, her inner submissive reminding her that she might've wounded Christian's ego, and overstepped her bounds — yet again.

"I'm sorry. Of course it's a compliment." She swallowed back the instinctive "Sir" that still occasionally formed on the tip of her tongue. "It's a spectacular yacht. I only meant that I didn't expect anything short of amazing from you. You're the most accomplished Dom, errr, man I know."

"Relax Ana." He cut off her prattling with a sensual shoulder massage. "You don't need to kiss my ass," he whispered, sending tingles down her spine.

 _But it's such a nice ass._

Christian licked the shell of her ear before nibbling on the lobe. "Something you were about to say Miss Steele?" he taunted her.

 _Oh shit, I'm pretty sure he just read my dirty little mind. Steer clear of the nice ass talk Ana. That might be one flirt too far. After all, we're still trying to navigate this odd "we're kinda-sorta-like a Dom/Sub" arrangement of ours — or at least I am. This man's definitely the captain of his own destiny. I'm just along for the ride._

"All I meant was that you never do anything half-assed Mr. Grey," she playfully retorted. _Well, there's no harm in a little flirting._

"You are correct Miss Steele. When I see something I want, I like to give it my all. And speaking of asses," he purred, fondling hers in the process.

 _You stepped right into that one._

Ana stifled a moan when he reached under her shirt to caress her breast, plucking at the sensitive tip. She was so entranced by the feel of his large hands that she forgot they were still standing on a public dock — in full view of parents and their baby strollers.

"Aren't you a cocky little sailor," Ana goaded him before she realized what she had said.

 _Jeez, I avoid commenting about his ass but then I whip out the word cocky. Way to tone down the sexual innuendo Steele!_

Christian chuckled, enjoying their flirtatious banter. "Careful Miss Steele, you're playing with fire. I'd be more than happy to show you that my cock is far from little at the moment." Ana yelped when he yanked her onto his arousal, the hard rod of steel pressed firmly between her cheeks.

All of a sudden, she saw a flash of movement in her peripheral vision and jumped out of Christian's reach.

"What's wrong?" he grimaced. _Get your ass back here!_

Ana quietly motioned to the sun-kissed blond man gawking at them from the deck of Christian's boat.

Christian rolled his eyes.

"That's Mac, my second-in-command." _And a first-rate cock-blocker_. "Come on baby. I'll introduce you and we'll take her out for a spin."

 _A spin? So would the boat do actual circles in the water? Holy Christ I'm ignorant. Keep your mouth shut Ana before these two men think you've left your brain back on dry land. It's bad enough you acted like a sub skank with your Dom feeling you up in public!_

Christian's hand hovered at the small of Ana's back as he led her up the gangplank, keeping a watchful eye in case she tripped.

"Hi Mac. I decided to drop in for visit and take her out for a few hours. This is my friend, Anastasia Steele."

 _Friend? That doesn't sound right. I've never called anyone girlfriend before though. Is that what Ana is? What do you call a part-time submissive with whom you want to spend all your time? Maybe I should've gone with girlfriend just to wipe that smug look off Mac's face. Fucker better keep his eyes to himself or he'll find himself taking an ice-cold bath in the Puget Sound._

"Hello. Nice to meet you." Ana courteously extended Mac her hand, her cheeks aflame.

"You as well Miss Steele," he said, politely shaking it back.

She could barely look the tall blond in the eye after her very inappropriate display of affection with his boss. Meanwhile, Mac couldn't take his eyes off Ana. She was very first woman Christian had ever brought aboard his yacht in all the years he had known him, other than his mother and sister. And based on how he was groping her, these two were definitely not related.

To Christian, however, Ana's embarrassment and Mac's shock got lost in translation. Instead, he interpreted her rosy cheeks as a searing indictment. _What the hell? Does she actually find this weed-smoking surfer-wannabe attractive? I put together million-dollar deals while this piss-ant scrapes barnacles off the bottom of my boat! And why is he staring at her like she's the last female on the earth? Fuck this shit!_

Christian tugged on Ana's hand, sharply pulling her away.

"Anastasia come. I'm going to give you a tour of the rest of the boat. Mac, get her ready. We'll be sailing in 30 minutes. In the meantime, we'll be downstairs. Don't disturb us," he barked, his commands harsher than usual.

Christian dragged a very disoriented Ana from room to room. "That's the galley. Juan over there is the chef. And that's my office," he rattled off, as if on auto pilot. Ana barely had a chance to wave to Juan before she was yanked down a narrow hallway. "That's one of the three guestrooms. The yacht comfortably sleeps about six. And this is my bedroom."

Christian hauled her into the contemporary room punctuated by accents of light blue and taupe. Ana barely had time to register the décor before his lips were on hers, claiming her with bruising force against the wall.

He pressed the entire weight of his body against hers, his erection digging into her belly. Christian suddenly pulled away, eyeing her swollen lips with a mixture of pride and concern.

"Did you want him Anastasia?"

"Uhhh, who?" Ana said in a daze. _That guy Juan chopping vegetables in the galley? Did I want him to cook us lunch? That's kind of presumptuous but yes lunch would be nice._

"You know who Ana," he growled, smashing his mouth onto hers again in a fiercely possessive kiss.

 _Uhhh, no I don't actually. But I don't mind helping Juan out. I can probably make a salad or something._

Christian came up for air, while Ana shivered at the threatening glint in his eye. _Maybe he's sick of salads? I've never really cooked a steak before though. I guess Juan could show me._

"Tell me who your Dom is."

"Uhhh, you."

"Say it."

"You're my Dom," she parroted, baffled by his latest interrogation. "I mean you are Sir," she added. _Is that what I forgot? I thought he didn't like the Sir part?_

"Not good enough Ana!" _I'm not just your Dom damn it! I'm the man you want to spend time with — and not because of some fucking contract._

He shoved her back against the wall, pinning her body down with his heaving chest. Christian's mouth devoured hers as he roughly groped her breasts, his tongue and fingers giving her no respite from his amorous onslaught.

"Strip for me," he commanded, stepping back to watch the show. With trembling hands, Ana removed every last article of clothing, standing before him nude and exposed. She fought the urge to cover up as his eyes roved over every inch of her body. But the only evidence that she was having any effect on him was the enormous bulge protruding from his khakis.

Christian's eyes never left hers as he gradually shed his own clothes, taking his sweet time to ratchet up the anticipation — and her frustration.

He sauntered over to her, his hot breath washing over her stunned face. Ana shrank at the towering inferno in front of her, unsure of what she had done to light his rage. All thoughts went out the window, however, when his hand ghosted down her neck and the valley of her breasts, before rolling and pinching one aching nipple. Ana was gushing from his feather-light touch.

"This is mine," he murmured, placing soft, wet kisses along her collarbone.

"Yes," she groaned.

"This is mine," he said before his mouth latched onto her nipple, delicately laving the tip.

"Oh God yes."

Christian's tongue descended further, roaming the soft expanse of her stomach before flicking the sensitized bundle of nerves that sent exquisite jolts of pleasure through her.

"Tell me whose pussy this is," he demanded, lightly blowing on her soaking core.

"Yours," she breathed, her mind and body completely at his mercy.

"Don't forget it Ana," he warned. She yelped when his tongue began to lick and pierce her folds, greedily drinking everything she had to offer him.

Just as he felt her muscles contract, Christian shot up again. He grabbed the back of her neck and kissed her forcefully, his tongue plundering her with primal abandon.

"Do you know how much I want you?" he panted. She blindly nodded, enthralled by his take-charge attitude as she waited for his next move. _I have no idea what's gotten him so revved up, but I'm sure as hell not about to slow his roll._

Christian's hand snaked down her waist. He suddenly dipped a finger knuckle-deep inside, taking her by surprise again. Just as quickly, he took it back out, bringing it to her mouth and gliding the slick digit along the bottom seam of her lips.

"Suck Ana," he instructed. Ana did just that, her checks hollow with the effort. Christian let out an audible sigh, riveted by the sight. "Do you taste how sweet you are Ana? I crave that taste, every fucking day. It's your turn baby. Taste me. Take me into that delicious mouth of yours. Show me who your Dom is. Show me how much you want to please me."

Ana happily complied, sinking to her knees before enveloping his entire length with her mouth.

"Fuck, that's it baby. Suck me," he urged, thrusting deep inside. He gently wrapped his hands around her head as it bobbed up and down, eyes glazed over by the lustful scene below him. "Take all of me Ana," he encouraged her, pushing further down into her throat.

Christian picked up the pace, his knees almost buckling when he breached the thin walls of her esophagus.

"Shit, enough," he quickly pulled out, overcome with desire. Christian wasted no time lifting her by the ass and impaling her onto his engorged cock. They both gasped and stilled, savoring the sensation of being joined together as one again.

Ever so slowly, Christian began to slide in and out her, the steady staccato of his breath warming her ear. But when Ana clamped her muscles around his cock, his control slipped another notch. He lunged forward, banging her against the wall as he plunged deep inside, her walls gripping him to the point of point.

"Oh God Ana, you feel so good," he grunted, cupping her ass as he pounded into her relentlessly. "So tight. So perfect. Tell me. Tell me who you belong to."

"You," Ana whimpered, eyes fluttering closed. He bucked into her hard, hitting her womb. "You Sir."

"No," he corrected her, nipping at her delicate skin, marking her as his. "Christian. I'm always Christian to you."

"Christian. Oh God, Christian," she mewled, clawing at his biceps. _I'll call you Rudolf the Red-Nosed Reindeer if you want. Just don't stop!_

He locked one arm across her shoulder while the other held her up in an iron-clad grip. A heavy sheen of sweat coated his back from the exertion of ramming into her with all of his might.

The sound of their slick bodies slamming together bounced off the walls, mingling with their erratic breaths. Ana let out a garbled version of his name as Christian continued to pump into her depths, burying himself impossibly deeper. _Fuck, it's never enough with her. I'd climb inside her if I could._

It wasn't enough for Ana either. She welcomed the brutality of his thrusts, begging him for more.

"I'll give you more. Come for me baby. Only for me," he yelled, his voice strangled with desire.

Ana's body went rigid as she shattered in ecstasy, shards of color temporarily blinding her as she came like a freight train. Her screams were swallowed by Christian, whose mouth ravaged hers as hot spurts of his seed lashed her inner walls.

His body twitched as he battered into her one last time, both of them struggling for air.

Christian kept his arms securely wrapped around Ana even though his legs felt like jelly, fearing she must stumble if he put her down. Finally, he carefully eased her back onto the ground, holding her arms while she swayed a bit.

"Are you OK?" he said timidly, all trace of possessiveness now gone. He brushed back the tangled, damp mess of hair from her face. "Did I hurt you?"

"No I'm fine." _Confused, but perfectly fine._

Christian darted to the bathroom before coming back with a towel to help clean Ana off.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled, drying off the beads of sweat from her forehead.

His apology only left her more confused. "Why?"

"I was jealous," he exhaled.

 _OK, now I'm thoroughly confused._

"Of what?"

He rubbed the back of his neck before bending down to pick up her clothes. "More like of whom. Mac. I thought you were attracted to him."

"What!" she shrieked. "Your second mate or whatever?" _I am jealous that Juan can chop a tomato without batting an eyelash, but that's a different story._

Christian avoided her incredulous stare as he helped her get dressed before putting his own clothes back on.

"He's not a mate. Fucker's not even Australian. He's from Tennessee," Christian said gruffly. "But yes, I thought you were impressed by him."

 _Of what? That he knew how to shake my hand?_

"More like embarrassed that he caught you feeling me up," Ana sniggered, amused by the irrational thoughts that clearly swirled in his head.

"Yeah well, he seemed to be struck by _you_ in any case," Christian countered glumly.

"I suspect that was because he was embarrassed too. I doubt he's ever seen the mighty Christian Grey canoodling with a girl in front of his boat." _Shit, or has he?_

"I suppose not," Christian chuckled. Ana smiled in relief, standing on her tiptoes to pat down his unruly mane of just-fucked hair.

"I can't believe you of all people would ever be jealous of anyone else," she mused, still in awe.

"Why not?"

"Ummm, how about the fact that you're a gorgeous billionaire whizkid for starters?" _Who's a stallion in bed, or on a kitchen counter, or up against a wall..._

"That's just fancy packaging Ana. Inside, there's not much to see."

Ana's eye grew round with astonishment. "How can you say that? You're a phenomenal person Christian, inside and out. Everybody sees it, myself included," she scolded him.

"I could say the same thing about you Miss Steele. How can _you_ not see that a man like Mac would be attracted to you? You're beautiful. The fucker wanted in your panties — he wanted what's mine — and I'm sure he's not the only one out there. I'll be damned though if some asswipe tries to take away what's mine."

Ana couldn't help the decidedly unladylike snort that came out of her. "I'm sorry, but who exactly do you think is lining up to take me away from you? It's not like I have a swarm of suitors buzzing around me, ready to swoop in when you're not looking. Other than some guy on campus who once asked me if I liked pizza — and I'm pretty sure he was just asking for directions to Domino's — no one's even asked me out on a date."

"You shouldn't be talking to strange men who approach you on campus Anastasia," he reprimanded her, his scowl having the opposite effect as she tried to suppress her laughter.

"OK, stranger-danger aside, Christian you don't have to worry about anyone 'taking' me away from you. We have a contract remember? And I stick to the letter of it. I would never cheat on you," she said, appalled by the mere insinuation. _Doesn't he realize that I value monogamy and safety as much as he does?_

"That's not the point," he muttered, a truculent frown still firmly etched on his face. _Why does it always come back to the fucking contract with her?_

"Then what is?" Ana asked, genuinely bewildered.

Christian sighed. _What is my damn point? That I want her bound to me by more than just a flimsy piece of paper? Get realistic Grey. That piece of paper is holy to her. It's her fucking crutch. There's no point wasting a perfectly good day of sailing and fucking to debate it._

"My point is that you don't realize how beautiful you are. I just don't like hearing you put yourself down," he muttered, skirting around the subject.

"Christian, I'm not putting myself down. I'm just being realistic. I'm about a 6 or a 7 on a good day — 7 ½ if my hair cooperates and it doesn't rain. I think people who are 8s and call themselves 1s are putting themselves down — just like people who are 5s and call themselves 10s are pretentious."

"I don't rate women according to a scale," he bit back defensively.

"Oh please. Every red-blooded male does. That's beside the point. All I'm saying is that I'm average, and I'm perfectly fine with that. Most of the world is average, after all. What's the big deal? There's someone out there for everyone," she shrugged. "Acknowledging your strengths and weaknesses is, in my opinion, a desirable attribute. I'm a plain Jane but it doesn't bother me, so I don't understand why it bothers you so much." _Unless it does. Shit, maybe I shouldn't have brought this up!_

Christian cradled her face, dropping an impassioned kiss on her forehead. "Ana, the only thing that bothers me is that you can't see yourself the way I do. You are so far from plain or average that it pisses me off to hear you describe yourself that way."

"OK then, I'm above-average. Whatever. My point is that superficial nonsense doesn't matter to me. I _do_ see who I am — a decent-looking girl with simple tastes, a hard work ethic and a somewhat unconventional sex life. That's about it. Seeing yourself honestly for who you are — instead of some fantasy version of yourself — is a healthy thing in my opinion. I don't aspire to be a beauty queen or a supermodel. That's not in the cards for me and I could care less. I just want to graduate school, get a job and support myself. I'm not going to wish for things that won't ever come true or delude myself into believing I'm someone I'm not. I've seen some of the other submissives at the club. I'm not blind. I'm well-aware that I'm probably not the caliber of sub you're used to, but I'm happy you've chosen to overlook my faults and be with me regardless."

They both inadvertently cringed — Ana at the thought of Christian with other women and Christian at the thought of Ana at a BDSM club with other men.

"Enough. I don't ever want to hear you compare yourself to them. There's no comparison. None," he said emphatically. "That's the whole point. You're not just a sub to me. I've never taken a woman on my boat. I've never cooked for her — or reheated something, but close enough. And I sure as hell never told her my life story. As for your 'caliber,'" Christian sneered, "it's so out of my league that it's not even worth discussing."

Ana stood there, utterly gob-smacked.

 _He's talking about being out of MY league? That's like Alex Rodriguez saying he can't play girls' softball. This man is so out of my stratosphere that I landed the moon and the stars when he agreed to be my Dom._

"I … I … I … I …I," Ana stuttered, before laughing at herself. "I sound like a cat with a hairball stuck in his throat because I clearly don't know what to say."

"Just pretend that I'm asking you about the state of Middle East affairs then. You have plenty to say on that topic," he snickered.

"War zones are easy to talk about — when you're not in them, of course. Talking about people's looks and how they view themselves are first-world problems."

"Perhaps. Either way, it's not a problem for you. I find you beautiful, inside and out." His eyes searched hers but Ana looked unconvinced.

"And I find you amazing, inside and out." It was Christian's turn to look unconvinced.

Ana narrowed her baby blues at him. "At least that's one thing in common. We are quite possibly the two most insecure, self-deprecating people on the planet."

"Then we're made for each other," he grinned, his arms encircling her waist. Ana stared up at him, dumbfounded by his declaration. Christian felt her tense and knew she'd hit her emotional limit for the day. _Switch gears Grey or she'll start to shut down on you. Enough of the deep shit. Go back to what you do best, flirting and fucking._

"What's wrong? Cat got your tongue Miss Steele," he teased, nuzzling her neck.

"I believe you had it a while earlier Mr. Grey."

"And I'll have it again," he whispered in her ear.

Ana began to squirm in his embrace, the thought of round two already riling her up. "I look forward to a repeat performance in that case Mr. Grey."

"No, not like that," he snapped.

Ana blinked in shock. _I seriously need to buy a neck brace because this man's mood swings are giving me whiplash._

Christian took a step back, vigorously scrubbing his face. "I just mean that I shouldn't have gone all Dom on you. I only did it out of jealousy. It won't happen again."

"Is that why you were upset earlier?" she asked cautiously, not wanting to instigate him all over again.

He nodded, glancing up at the ceiling, strangely fascinated by the crown molding he'd never paid attention to before. _How much did that useless shit cost me?_

"Not to point out the glaringly obvious here, but you are my Dom. Why would I be mad that you went 'all Dom' on me?" _In fact, I find your jealousy flattering. Silly, but flattering._

Christian expelled a conflicted breath. "Look Ana, I'm not explaining myself very well here. I just don't want BDSM to be the basis of our interaction together. I don't want us to be solely defined by our roles. I mean, you're still my sub and I'm still your Dom, but you're not just my sub and I'm not just your Dom. Does that make sense?"

"No, not really," she giggled. "It's like that famous Donald Rumsfeld saying about 'known unknowns.'"

Christian wistfully stroked her cheek. "Only you would quote a former defense secretary talking about the Iraq War in a conversation about BDSM. That's exactly what I mean Ana. You have no idea how different and special you are," he sighed, knowing he was making about as much sense as Rumsfeld at the moment. "Look, let's just enjoy ourselves today. All I'm saying is don't worry about offending me or pleasing me. I just want you to enjoy sailing with me, and then I'm going to take you to that seafood restaurant I mentioned. Sound like a plan?"

"Yes," she smiled, relieved. "I thought that was the original plan, in fact."

"Well, it was supposed to be but I slightly deviated from it."

"That's alright. You know what they say," she winked suggestively. "The best laid plans…"


	15. Chapter 15

_**AUTHOR'S NOTE: Short but sweet. Don't get too used to it though. Plenty more angst after this (it is, after all, a story about depression). I've got the next few chapters almost done so I'll try to post them quickly. In the meantime, please keep reviewing – I love your feedback. (And to my "1**_ _ **st**_ _ **world issues" guest reviewer, I did throw in that color reference thinking about your minestrone metaphor ;)**_

True to his word, Christian stuck to his plan and didn't veer off course. He spent the day sailing the brisk waters of the Puget Sound, showing Ana how to tie different knots while dispatching Mac on pointless errands.

Ana smiled to herself. _Convenient how all those errands seemed to be on the opposite end of wherever we were on the boat. This jealous nut is a trip. What in the world is he worried about? Mac's not exactly Dom material. But I'm glad he stayed out of our way. I wouldn't want anyone else to see my klutzy ass trying to do one of those tricky sailor knots. Christian seemed pretty amused though by my bumbling attempts. I'll definitely leave the rope-tying though to the master._

Ana took one last whiff of the crisp salt air as they crossed the street and entered a cozy-looking restaurant. An older man with weathered skin and a white beard instantly approached his loyal client.

"Mack, this is Anastasia Steele," Christian said, proudly introducing Ana to the barkeep at his favorite Irish pub, situated a stone's throw from the marina. He still didn't know how to navigate the whole "friend-versus-girlfriend" label, so he just omitted it altogether.

Ana glanced up at him. "Another Mack?" she whispered.

"A different one. A better one," he grinned. _One you can flirt with all you want. If I'm threatened by an 80-year-old guy, then I've got bigger problems._ "It's short for Mackenzie." _The other Mac's real name is Leonard. Where the fuck he got Mac as a nickname is beyond me._

"Hello," Ana beamed. "Pleasure to meet you."

"Why hello there little lady," he said, the gravelly baritone of his voice aged by whiskey and cigars. "Pleasure to meet you as well. Nice to see someone keeping this crotchety sailor over here company for a change."

Ana thought of the younger Mac. "You have no idea how crotchety this sailor can be," she winked.

 _OK, that's enough flirting._

"And he's only going to get more crotchety if we don't get some food," Christian interjected, leading Ana to a secluded booth in the corner overlooking the marina. "Mack, can we start with two beers and two cups of that clam chowder of yours?"

"Aye aye captain!"

Ana quirked her brow in surprise. "Mr. Grey partakes in beer?"

"Mr. Grey partakes in anything that tastes good," he crooned, rubbing his hand along Ana's thigh.

"And your appetite never seems to be sated," she flashed him a devious smile.

"With you, no. But first, we eat. Mack has the best clam chowder in town. You'll love it."

Ana didn't have the heart to tell him she hated clam chowder.

It didn't take him long to figure it out once he saw her picking at the potatoes bobbing in her soup.

"What's wrong? You don't like it?"

"Ahh, I'm just a little full."

"From what?"

"Well, it could be from the lumberjack stack of pancakes from iHop that you made me eat this morning. Or the massive steak lunch that Juan expertly prepared. Or the chocolate-covered strawberries we had."

"That was hours ago Ana. And I think it's safe to say we worked up an appetite. Now tell me what's really wrong."

"I'm just not a fan of clam chowder, although this version is excellent."

"What?" he exclaimed. "I thought you liked soup?"

"Just because I like soup doesn't mean I like _all_ kinds of soup," she giggled. As a submissive, she would've eaten whatever was placed in front of her. But she was finding herself more and more at ease expressing her opinion.

"Why didn't you say anything?"

"You had already ordered before I could."

"I always order," he said, mildly affronted.

"It is the 21st century. Women can vote and even order for themselves occasionally," she quipped.

Christian's mouth went slack. As a dominant, he would've whipped her into place by now. But he was finding himself more and more thrilled every time Ana expressed an opinion.

"What about the halibut and Brussels sprouts I ordered?"

"I like halibut. I prefer broccoli but I'll give the sprouts a try."

Christian scooted down the booth to stand up.

"Where are you going?" Ana asked, alarmed.

"To tell the kitchen to change your order."

"No, please don't. Sit back down."

Christian slid his body next to hers again.

"I thought you said you didn't like Brussels sprouts though?"

"But I want to give them a try. Remember, we're broadening our horizons?"

He leaned over to give her a deep, long kiss. "Mmmm, that we are Miss Steele. So what do you want to do after this? I know what I want to do, but since we've still got a little daylight left, is there anything you'd like to do outdoors before we shelter indoors?"

"Well, there is one thing," she panted.

"Tell me," he murmured, nuzzling her neck.

"As long as we're at the marina, we could watch the sunset."

Christian remembered the last time she did that, alone and unaware that he was across the street in his car spying on her.

"Do you often do that?"

"Yes. It's pretty. I have a park bench I can show you. It comfortably seats two, assuming my homeless friend isn't taking his afternoon nap," she joked, mocking his earlier description of his yacht.

"In that case, consider it a date Miss Smarty-Pants."


	16. Chapter 16

_**AUTHOR'S NOTE: I just wanted to offer a few insights into Ana's head. Hope it makes sense!**_

Ana was holed up in Christian's library in the makeshift office he'd set up for her, staring at the shiny new laptop he had lent her (only after a morning blowup about the exact definition of "lend" versus "give"). She was polishing her paper on the military implications of Turkey's NATO membership, but her mind was busy analyzing another unconventional arrangement — one fraught with even more dangers: Her "relationship" with Christian.

It was Sunday and in return for Ana breaking the rules of her contract, she agreed to spend another night at Christian's penthouse if he agreed to give her time during the day to finish her schoolwork.

Only she had finished her work hours ago. Instead of venturing back out to find Christian, however, she found herself stuck in his vast library, which was lined with so many books that she doubted he even knew what was in his pricey collection.

Normally, her weekend routine was laid out for her: breakfast, a few hours in the playroom and then home. No fuss, no muss.

But after their long outing on Saturday, Christian bombarded her with even more elaborate ideas for spending the day together Sunday, from soaring on his glider to dinner atop Seattle's Space Needle. _What's with him and heights anyway? He even lives in a castle in the sky._

Not that flying and five-course meals didn't sound appealing to Ana, but his grandiose talk was throwing her well-ordered existence into disarray. She couldn't ignore the nagging suspicion that Christian had the wrong girl in mind for his lavish lifestyle.

 _I can do BDSM, but not big boats and brie. Why is he wasting all this energy on me? Surely he can find some sophisticated CEO-type who fits into his world and appreciates it more than I do. Not that I'm complaining — who would bitch about spending the day aboard a yacht? — but why start to develop a taste for the finer things in life when you won't ever be able to afford them? A girl could get used to this — but that doesn't mean she SHOULD get used to this._

Not wanting to trample his spirits, though, Ana gladly agreed to spend the night with him but demanded some alone time during the day to process her predicament.

 _Europe's NATO obligations to Turkey if it were attacked by the Islamic State? That's an easy one. My response to Christian's attempts to wine and dine his submissive? That's the real conundrum! If only real life were as simple as hypothetical military confrontations._

Ana sighed, gazing out the window. It wasn't just his fancy plans and her deeply embedded fear of relationships that were eating away at her. It was the fact that even though it was a gorgeous, sun-drenched day, all she wanted to do was lie in bed and pull the covers over her head.

She recognized these days — days when, for some inexplicable reason, she just felt down. _Only before I never had to EXPLAIN these days to anyone else. I know my moods naturally go up and down, but my baseline seems to be a lot lower than other people's. I know when the depression creeps in. There's usually no reason for it. It's not as if I didn't have an absolutely wonderful time with Christian yesterday. I should be ecstatic, but I'm not. I'm not anything today. This apathetic shit just randomly strikes me. It's like waking up to a huge zit in the middle of your forehead. You can't predict it. You just deal with it and move on. I don't cry or yell or stop showering like some people in the throes of depression. I don't even cut my skin open any more. I just don't do anything other than work and sleep — with the occasional sex thrown in. That's what depression is like for me: doing the bare minimum to skate by life. At least I haven't give up on it altogether though. That's why school is so important to me — along with being able to stand on my own two feet. It gives my lackluster life some purpose — a reason to get up every morning and at least accomplish something. I don't aspire to change the world. I aspire to get through the day. I aspire to numb the pain. The meds take the edge off, but they don't completely dull it._

Ana knitted her brows together, her finger tracing the outline of the keyboard. _No, I can't really describe it as pain. It doesn't hurt. It doesn't feel like anything. I'm not even sad. I'm just indifferent. Nothing and no one interests me when I get into these moods. And for years, like the masochist that I am, I used to beat myself up over these self-induced funks, trying to force myself to snap out of them. I used to be so angry at myself for not being able to control my own moods. It was like I was being held hostage by some invisible force in my brain. Why was I so weak? Why couldn't I just MAKE myself be happy like everyone else? But then I remembered what that one high school guidance counselor told me. Out of all the quacks I saw, Mr. Harper gave me the only piece of advice that ever made any sense. He told me that it's OK to be depressed every once in a while. He told me to stop giving myself grief over how I feel and just accept it._

Ana snorted.

 _What an epiphany. Why are the simplest things in life usually the hardest for us to grasp? Ever since then, I learned to accept that I'll have my good days and my bad days. Like all things, it will pass. But it's one thing for me to accept my demons — it's quite another to force them onto someone as giving and selfless as Christian. It's not fair to subject him to my misery when all he wants to do is make me happy. He deserves so much better than that._

Ana slouched back in the leather chair, staring aimlessly at the ceiling. _It was so much easier when a Dom didn't expect anything from me but my submission. When he just told me what to eat and what position he wanted me in — just like my professors tell me what to study and write about — and no one expects me to have an actual opinion. Fucking is so much easier than feeling._

As if his ears were burning, Christian knocked on the door before peeking inside.

"All done?" he said hopefully.

"Yep. All done," she lied, closing his laptop _. I never even started_. "I'm all yours. Thanks for letting me borrow your laptop."

Christian rolled his eyes. _If by 'borrow' you mean it's yours to keep forever, then yes, I let you borrow it._

"Now that you're done with your homework, did you want to do something? It's a nice day. Did you want to go outside? Maybe we could go biking?" _Not that I've ridden a bike since I was 9, but I want to prove to you that our relationship isn't confined to the playroom, especially after my little caveman-like display yesterday._

"You bike?"

"Yes." _No_.

"Ummm, I haven't really ridden a bike in, well, ever, to be honest. I don't really do much outdoors other than, errr, walk I guess." _And that's mostly because I don't have a car, or a bike for that matter._ Ana began to twist her fingers. "Sorry — not very adventurous I know." She gave him a nervous laugh.

Christian walked over and sat down on the couch beside Ana, reaching over to untangle her fingers. "Don't apologize. We can do whatever you want. What do you usually do in your free time?"

Ana shrugged. "Besides work, not much." _I told you there's not much to me. You just refuse to believe it._

"What would you normally do on a Sunday night?" he pressed, undeterred.

Ana shrugged again, doing her best impression of an insolent teenager.

"You're not trying to renege on our agreement are you?"

"No of course not! I'm not trying to go home tonight. It's just that," she hedged, taking a big gulp of air. "I don't really do much on my off time. Sometimes I just like to pull the covers over my head and drown out the world around me. Other times, I veg on the sofa and watch something trashy on TV. I like to zone out and decompress, which is a fancy way of saying I like to be lazy and take afternoon naps I suppose."

 _Thank God. Because I don't know shit about riding a bike._

Christian clasped her hand and helped Ana to her feet.

"Where are we going?"

"To my media room to watch TV and take a nap. It's about time it got some use."


	17. Chapter 17

_**AUTHOR'S NOTE: So this was originally going to be a light-hearted chapter, but it got angsty pretty fast! I'm not trying to knock BDSM, but I don't think Ana comes at it from a healthy place (at least not in my story). Between her depression, self-harm and feeling that men use her for her body, she really shouldn't be doing it. So that leads to this inevitable confrontation with Christian, who's shaken by her latest revelation and begins to question if he can truly make her happy. Hope the end wasn't too melodramatic. Please review!**_

Christian had never really spent time lounging in his own media room. But as Ana's head lay on his lap — his fingers rhythmically combing through her long locks while she dozed in and out — he developed a newfound appreciation for the art of doing nothing.

He ignored whatever reality TV dribble Ana had set the channel to. As always, whenever his thoughts began to stray, he found them inevitably wandering over to Ana — and what excuse he could come up with to see her next.

"I have a gala dinner I need to attend on Tuesday night," he said out of the blue, pausing the TV. "It's for a local children's cancer charity that many companies in the Seattle Chamber of Commerce support, including my own. I'd like you to accompany me."

Ana tensed, her rapid-fire breathing the only noise amid the pin-drop silence.

 _Like a date? In public? With all of Seattle's bigwigs? And he wants me to accompany the biggest bigwig of them all to one of the biggest functions in town? That's, well, BIG. What has he been smoking on that ship with Mac? Does he seriously expect the city's wealthiest, smartest man to show up with an orphan/submissive who is scared of social gatherings and whose only accomplishment is taking a few international law classes? Even if he didn't partake in Mac's stash of weed, he must've snorted some seawater up his nose because he's officially lost his ever-loving mind._

Ana gradually lifted herself from Christian's lap, preparing to let him down gently.

"Christian, I can't come with you."

He looked perplexed, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "Why not?" _It's not forbidden in that sacred contract of yours, so what's the problem now?_

"Ummm, for one thing, how exactly do you plan on introducing me?"

"As my date," he shrugged.

"But I'm your submissive."

"Who'd be my date for the evening."

Ana resisted the urge to roll her eyes. "OK, semantics aside, let's face the bigger elephant in the room. What about the fact that I'd make a total fool of myself? What do you expect me to talk about with people who run multimillion-dollar corporations and charities?"

"Syria, climate change, immigration policy, terrorism or any of the million subjects you could easily school them on." _Isn't it obvious?_

"Christian, it's one thing for me to give _you_ a lecture on international affairs. I know you — fairly intimately I might add." He gave her a lascivious smirk. "Damn straight Miss Steele."

"Stay focused," she playfully admonished him and his ever-present libido. "My point is, it's quite another thing to talk intelligently with a group of people I hardly know, especially when that group is way more educated and accomplished than me. I'm intimidated by speaking up in class — let alone speaking up at some fancy-schmancy shindig."

"Ana, first of all, give yourself a modicum of credit. You're one of the most intelligent people I know. Most of these people talk out of their asses anyway. Second of all, give _me_ some credit. I won't leave you to fend for yourself with those sharks. I'll be right there by your side the entire time."

"Christian, please understand. I'm not good in social situations. They terrify me. I'm shy, awkward and insecure — all characteristics that are on painful display whenever I try to 'network.' My attempt at chitchat always looks contrived, and the last thing I want to do is embarrass you."

"Ana, you could never embarrass me. I'd be proud to have you on my arm. I want to show the world that you're mine."

She scrunched her nose at him. "I am yours." _We have the contract to prove it. And you fucked me into oblivion on your boat to remind me._

"Yes, but I want everyone else to know it."

Her stomach roiled. "Christian, you do realize the implications of what you're saying?" she whispered. "If you take me to this very public event, you'll essentially be taking _us_ public."

 _Good. That's the whole fucking point — to get you to stop hiding behind your fears._

"Relax baby, I've got that covered. We're going to skip the paparazzi feeding frenzy outside and sneak in through a private entrance. So you're only going to be meeting a few business associates of mine." _More like a few hundred, but one step at a time Grey. She doesn't need a complete headcount._

Ana sighed, the fight draining out of her, although she decided to throw one last-ditch counterpunch.

"I don't have anything to wear Christian," she whined. _Really Ana? That's the best you could come up with? The old "I don't have anything to wear" ploy? Next thing you'll be saying is that you have to spend the evening shampooing your hair._

"I already bought you a dress." Ana opened her mouth but Christian pre-empted her. "And before you object Miss Steele, it's not a gift. I equate the dress to the phone — it's part of my obligation as your Dom to take care of things that I'm demanding of you. If I use up the minutes on your phone, it's only fair that I compensate you for them. And if I expect you to accompany me to a work event, it's only fair that I provide you with the appropriate attire."

She arched a sardonic brow at him. _He's the one who should've gone to law school. He has a ready rebuttal for every argument._

"Ana, I respect that you don't want gifts. I understand it's a matter of pride for you," he said patronizingly.

 _Apparently you don't understand, because this isn't about wounding some poor girl's pride!_

"No, it's a matter of survival," she countered vehemently. "I'm a young woman on my own in this world and I have to be smart Christian. Relying on someone I've barely known for a few weeks to start paying my bills is just plain stupid, especially when I have no idea where that person will be a few months from now."

"Enough Anastasia! I take umbrage at the fact that you're already preparing for the demise of our relationship," he growled.

"And I take umbrage at the fact that you can't see I'm only being practical and trying to protect myself."

"From what? Me?" he said incredulously.

"From life," she said blandly.

Christian lobbed daggers at her. "Bullshit. Clearly you don't trust me," he huffed.

"I do," she insisted, though she couldn't mask the hesitation in her voice. _In the bedroom at least. But with my future? That's an entirely different matter._

"No you don't Ana. If you did, you'd quit acting like I'm going to disappear from your life tomorrow. I don't plan on going anywhere, which you need to get through that intelligent yet very thick of skull of yours. And even if I did, I'd never leave you in a lurch financially. All this is conjecture anyway. I'm not paying any of your bills, other than the occasional grocery bill. I'm buying you completely superfluous shit that you could easily do without if you had to. Stop overanalyzing this and just take the damn dress," he barked, her defiance starting to grate on his nerves.

Ana had pushed her Dom to his breaking point and knew it was time to step back.

"Alright," she relented, head bowed in defeat — her submissive nature on full display.

Christian sighed, just as defeated. He didn't feel like celebrating. Browbeating Ana into submission wasn't a victory.

"Ana, I won't force the dress on you — or the gala. I don't want to force anything on you. That was never my intention."

She looked up, her chest constricting when she saw the sadness reflected back at her.

"I'm sorry. I don't mean to sound ungrateful. I'll accept the dress. Thank you. I'm just making a big deal out of nothing. Ignore me."

"Anastasia, I don't think you're ungrateful. I understand why you're so determined to pay your own way through life, and I admire the hell out of you for it," he said softly. "But this goes much deeper than that. Your contract explicitly bars me from even giving you flowers. It's so extreme. Why? Why won't you let me buy you anything?" _It's the only way I know how to show affection._

"Because," she swallowed, averting his expectant gaze. "It makes me feel cheap." _And I don't need to feel more of a whore than I already am._

Christian gasped. "What? I make you feel cheap?"

"No, of course not. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to imply that. I should never have even said anything. Please, just forget it."

"No! Talk to me. Tell me what you're thinking."

Ana bit her lip.

"Please, damn it!"

"You don't always like what I have to say," she quietly pointed out.

"I know," he admitted, raking his hand through his hair. "But I always want to hear it nonetheless."

"It's hard to explain my aversion to gifts. I'm not ashamed of engaging in this lifestyle, but I'm not exactly proud of it either. I do it because I don't know how to have a normal relationship. It serves a purpose for me, physically at least. But let's be honest. At the end of the day, my purpose is to offer up my body to please a man. It's not exactly the type of thing a girl would go running home to brag about to her father — assuming I ever had a father that is. The gifts just add another unsavory element to the whole thing."

Christian recoiled, as if he'd been punched in the gut.

"In other words, I treat you like a prostitute?" he whispered, pain searing through him like a dull blade.

"No! No! Not at all. Please don't think that. I _never_ said that. You treat me like a queen. I'm so sorry. Shit, that didn't come out right. Nothing ever does. I told you I'd rather not talk about this stuff. Please Christian. Please forgive me," she begged, tears swimming in her eyes.

In a daze, Christian stood up and walked over to the window, his back toward her. Never had Ana felt so alone in her entire life. The feeling was mutual.

"You've been honest with me so it's only fair that I do the same," he said, his tone eerily grave. "I'm not sure this lifestyle is for you Ana." _Or, by extension, me._

Christian stared at his reflection in the glass, meditating on her words. His frame loomed large over Ana as she sat on the sofa, her innocent eyes transfixed on him. It was a sobering, and disgusting, visual. _I thought I could be her savior, but she sees me as just another Dom taking advantage of her body. Maybe that's all I am. Another pervert who perpetuates her self-loathing by spanking and fucking her into submission._

He swallowed back the caustic residue of bile lodged in his throat.

"You essentially equate BDSM with being a whore," he croaked, his voice catching on the repugnant word. "That couldn't be any further from how I see you Ana, but it's how you see yourself — and I can't tell you how much that worries me. All my previous subs enjoyed this lifestyle, but not you. You do it voluntarily but you have serious issues with it. I don't think this is a healthy outlet for you. I've just been in denial about it for my own purely selfish reasons, because I wanted to hang onto you, but I think it's best that I let you go," he whispered somberly. "I care about you too much to hurt or demean you." _Or damage you more than you already are._ "Please understand Anastasia. I'm only trying to do the right thing here. And this is wrong. What I've been doing is wrong."

Ana's hand flew to muffle the cry about to escape her mouth. _I warned him not to go digging into my thoughts. I warned him that he wouldn't like what he'd find. And now look what I've done. I've ruined the best fucking thing that ever happened to a pathetic girl like me. All because I couldn't keep my trap shut! For fuck's sake, I basically called him a pimp, after everything he's done for me! What the hell is wrong with me? More importantly, what can I say to change his mind? Nothing. It's too late now. Look at him. He can't even bear to face me. Maybe it's better this way. This was going to happen eventually. Why not today instead of six months from now?_

Ana wiped her eyes, resigned to her fate. "I understand. I really do. You're such a good man Christian. I'm so grateful for everything you've done, and so very, very sorry," she choked, trying to hide her devastation. "I'm just going to grab my things and get out of your way."

He heard Ana's footsteps racing for her bedroom. Every muscle in Christian's body shook with the restraint of not turning around, but he couldn't bear to watch Ana walk away _. I know I'm being a coward but I'm finally doing the noble thing, for once in my life._ Christian closed his eyes, trying to ward off the image of Ana running for the door, a look of rejection marring her beautiful features. Just then, like a thunderbolt, he pictured her face — and realized this could be the last time he ever saw it.

The thought propelled him into action.

"Ana," he hollered, bolting up the stairs. "Ana wait!"

He caught a glimpse of the playroom. The realization that he could care less if he ever saw the inside of it again made him stumble in his haste. The room didn't matter — he could never picture bringing another woman to it anyway. It could be converted into an afternoon-tea sitting room for all he cared. All that mattered was that _she_ was in his house.

It hit him with the force of a nuclear explosion: He could give up the lifestyle, but not her. For once in his life, he looked forward to something other than work and sex. Since he was 15, he assumed he needed BDSM to function. _But I need her. And I'm going to show her that she needs me too, not the lifestyle._

Breathless, he finally spotted Ana in the hallway and lunged for her.

"Christian what the…"

Ana was silenced by his mouth slamming down on hers. One hand came around her waist while he weaved his fingers into her hair with the other to angle her head as he pushed her against the wall, his lips and tongues attacking her.

Dizzy, Ana clutched his arms and neck for support, mauling him back with equal fervor.

She didn't know if this was their farewell kiss — as usual with Christian, she didn't know if she was coming or going — but for once in her life she didn't care, focusing instead on the softness of his lips and the strength of his embrace.

"Ana, don't go," he panted, smothering her face with kisses. "I don't give a shit. I am a selfish fuck because I'm not letting you go."

"I, I don't understand," Ana said, staggering backward in an attempt to get some air — and clarity.

He solemnly clasped her hands in his, bringing them to his chest. "Stay. Don't overthink this. Just stay with me. I want you so much and I know you want me. This lifestyle may not be for you, but _I am_! I'll figure out a way to make it work — to make you feel proud of yourself."

Ana stared at him, flabbergasted.

"Ana, listen to me. If you tell me I'm like all your other Doms who made you feel used, then I'll let you go without a fight. I wouldn't want you to ever lie to me. But if you tell me that I don't make you feel that way, then that's good enough for me."

"Christian, you're _nothing_ like them," she stressed. "You're so different. Everything with you is so different than anything I've ever known. You make me feel amazing."

"Then stay and let's go from there," he implored her, cradling her face as if she were porcelain doll. It occurred to him that in many ways she was — a worldly, intelligent woman on the outside but so fragile on the inside. _And I'll be damned if I'm the one who breaks what's left of her spirit._

"Let me take care of you Ana." _And make you whole again_.

His thumb grazed her skin, wiping away a solitary tear that had trickled down her cheek.

"But you told me to leave." _After you told me to get it through my thick skull that you weren't going to disappear on me._

"And it almost broke me," she said, her voice barely above a whisper." _I don't know if I can take that chance again._

"But instead it broke me," he said emphatically. "I didn't make it 10 seconds before I came chasing after you. I only thought I was doing what was best for you. But _I'm_ what's best for you — or at least I'm determined to be, if you just give me the chance. I was a fucking idiot for the things I said. I overreacted. Forgive me. Give me another chance."

Ana eyed him warily. She had never once played the lottery. Never once crossed her fingers. Never poured salt over her shoulder. She didn't believe in chances or luck. She believed in perseverance and the one person she could always rely on — herself. But for the first time in her life, she found herself believing in the man standing before her, promising her the world — or at least the fantasy of him.

"Please Ana." He hated how pathetic he sounded, but Ana had a knack for bringing him to his knees. _I may be an arrogant prick, but I'm also a reasonable man — and a realistic one. I'm done denying the power this woman has over me._

"Let me make this right Ana." _Let me help you. Let me be with you_.

 _What did he do wrong? I'm the one who basically accused him of treating me like a slab of meat._

Ana perpetually felt like a wounded animal in Christian's eyes — a pet project that needed fixing. _He has no idea what he's up against. But for once I want to be the selfish one. I'm entitled to a few moments of joy in this God-forsaken life of mine! I don't want to go back to an empty apartment with a few functional pieces of furniture and barren walls. I want to be with him — whether as his charity case or his date to a charity ball. I want to indulge in this fantasy for a little while longer, at least until reality comes crashing back down on me_.

"Ana, please, talk to me. Don't go. I won't let you down again," he vowed, gripping her arms tightly.

"I know you won't," she smiled.

"What? You do?" he breathed, stunned.

She stroked his five-o'clock shadow, reaching up to give him a chaste kiss. "Yes. I know we've had our ups and downs — and more drama than a Spanish telenovela — but I also know that everything you've done and said has come from a good place."

"So you're staying?"

"Yes."

He hauled her into his arms in a bear-like hug, lifting her off the ground.

"Thank you Ana. Thank you for taking a chance on me."

She giggled into his chest, her feet dangling in midair. "It's only fair. You keep taking chances on me."

"I don't believe in chances Ana," he said, echoing her earlier thoughts. He set her down but kept his arms locked around her waist. "I believe in making things happen. And I'm going to make _us_ happen. I'm going to make you happy," he declared with such vigor it left her speechless.

 _Alrighty then._

"So you're really staying?" he asked sheepishly.

She marveled at how quickly this cocky man could morph into an insecure little boy.

"Yes," she repeated. _Against my better judgment, yes._

"For the night right?"

"Yes," she laughed.

"And the gala? Will you still go to that?"

"I don't want to," she replied honestly.

"Oh. OK." Crestfallen, he took her hand to walk her back to the media room.

"But I want to spend time with you, so I'll go."

His face instantly brightened.

"But I have one favor."

"Name it." _You know whatever it is, I'll do it_.

"Since I don't regularly go to these kinds of functions, I thought that perhaps afterward I could donate the dress to one of those charities that provides underprivileged women with business suits and other professional clothing. I'm not sure if they'll have much use for an evening gown, but I thought it might be a nice gesture nonetheless."

He wrapped his arm around her shoulder and kissed her hair. "I think that's an excellent idea baby."

 _I'll fucking buy every woman in Seattle a Cinderella ball gown and a job if it keeps you here._

 _ **AUTHOR'S NOTE: So this was Christian's big breakdown. It was necessary for his epiphany in the next chapter. Ana's breakdown is still to come. But don't worry, that's it. No actual breakups in this story ;)**_


	18. Chapter 18

"I'm not rushing her John — she needs my help! She's finally opening up to me. I need to move full steam ahead so that we don't go backward."

It was Monday night and Christian was at Flynn's office — ahead of schedule, both literally and figuratively.

"Christian, I'm happy that you and Ana are connecting, but perhaps you need to slow down," Flynn cautioned him. "Don't push her too far too fast."

"Taking her on a damn date after I've fucked her every which way isn't exactly moving fast," he snarled, hands on his hips as he stood over his trusty psychiatrist. Flynn wondered why his patient couldn't ever just sit on the sofa.

"No, but exposing her to the unwanted glare of the media spotlight as your girlfriend is."

"I'll keep her away from those pariahs," he huffed. "And she's only my date, not my girlfriend."

"Whatever label you use, she will still be bombarded by your associates, none of whom have ever seen you bring a woman to one of these functions," he reminded him. "That may be incredibly overwhelming for her. Remember, according to you, this girl has been depressed and isolated for years. This is not the kind of situation she's accustomed to — or may even want to be a part of."

"Exactly," Christian bit back. "That's why she needs it. She needs to rejoin the world, to crawl out of her shell and out of her rut. I'm pushing her so she can finally rid herself of these ghosts that have been holding her back — so that she finally gets better!" _Jesus, for a bright man this Brit can be exceedingly dense!_

"Christian, you do realize that people with depression don't just magically 'get better.' It's a disease, like any other chronic condition. Medication and therapy can help curb it, but there is no overnight 'cure.' This is something she will most likely battle for the rest of her life, and you need to be prepared to stand beside her through the ups and downs if you decide to be with her long-term. I don't say that to discourage you in any way. I think Anastasia is the best thing that's ever happened to you, but you need to have a clearer picture of her problems before you go trying to fix them single-handedly."

"Don't patronize me John. I understand that depression is a serious illness and no one is even talking about being with this woman long-term, so stop getting ahead of yourself. I'm just talking about taking her on a date for fuck's sake. We've made steady progress. We talk every night. We're spending time outside the playroom. This is simply the next step in her recovery," Christian said with CEO efficiency. "I only want to help the girl — and if I have the means to do it at my disposal, why shouldn't I?"

"I never said that you shouldn't, although I do think professional help would be beneficial to her as well."

"You think I don't know that? I suggested she see you after my meltdown over making her feel cheap. The last thing I'd ever want is for her to feel degraded, and I know she's got some twisted ideas about herself and BDSM. But she hates shrinks, so what can I do? I'm not going to push her. I barely got her to stay after I practically shoved her out the door like a moron."

"That gets to another matter. It's clear you no longer view her strictly as a submissive, but she continues to see herself in this light. At some point, you will both need to have a conversation to delineate the parameters of your new relationship. When are you going to broach this subject with her?"

"John, it was pulling teeth to get her to go out with me in public. She doesn't just have a phobia about relationships. She has a total complex about them. I'm not stepping into that heaping pile of shit until I have to."

Flynn quirked his brow. "Are you avoiding the issue to use your position as her Dom when it conveniently suits you, such as pressuring her into this party?"

"Fuck you John," he muttered, conveniently avoiding his gaze. "Don't insinuate that I'd ever take advantage of her."

"That's not what I'm saying," Flynn replied, unfazed by Christian's routine outbursts, especially where Ana was concerned. "I just want you to navigate this minefield carefully. You can't expect her to act like a submissive one day, and then expect her to freely express her opinions the next. You can't have your cake and eat it too. At some point, you will both have to hash out your expectations."

"As you always tell me John, one step at a time." Christian smirked, finally able to throw Flynn's advice back in his face. "Look, she already knows how much she means to me — I was practically on my damn knees begging her to stay the other day. She knows I don't just want her for her body. And she knows I disapprove of her seeing herself that way. I'm going to help her realize her own self-worth if it kills me. Helping other people may not be my strong suit, and God knows I've fucked shit up with this girl a million times, but I'll be damned if that stops me from trying."

"Christian, I think you help a tremendous amount of people. You consistently underestimate your altruistic nature. And it's obvious that you care deeply about this woman's welfare, but this goes far beyond that. I'm just going to ask you this pointblank because there's no use dancing around it any more. Are you in love with Anastasia?"

Christian stopped his pacing to glare at his presumptuous psychiatrist. "What? Have you lost your fucking mind John? I'm not capable of love. You know that," he ground out. "Not to mention the fact that this girl has more issues than any sane man could cope with — let alone a fucked-up one like me with his own boatload of issues."

Christian abruptly turned to stare out the window, on the verge of another meltdown. Neither said a word for the next minute as Christian clenched his fists, his shoulders taut with tension.

"But yes, of course I love the damn girl!" he finally yelled out. "There, happy now?" _Nosey bastard._ "Anyone with eyes can fucking see I love her — everyone except her!"

Flynn grinned from ear to ear while Christian wore an implacable scowl. _Smug AND nosey bastard._

"Then don't give up on her Christian. The speed with which you have opened yourself up to Anastasia has been nothing short of miraculous, but everyone works on their own timetable. I know you're frustrated that she hasn't fully reciprocated and let you in, but if you objectively step back from the situation, you'll see just how far she _has_ come in such a short span of time. Don't discount her journey simply because it doesn't mirror your own. Work with her, at her own pace — gradually. Be patient Christian."

"I'd never give up on her, but patience is not my MO doc," he grumbled.

"Neither was love," Flynn pointed out.

 _Exactly. But I made it happen. And now I'm going to make Ana fall in love with me. I'm a man who gets what he wants — I have a multibillion-dollar business to prove it — and I know what I want: Ana Steele, by my side, happy and healthy, from this moment forward. I'm done pretending. I want all of her and I won't settle for anything less. And I'm done with these fucking baby steps._

"Christian, I just don't want you to have unrealistic notions that you alone will somehow save her."

"Look John, I think we'll have to agree to disagree on this one. If anyone can 'save' her, it's the man who loves her." _Love. The word still sounds so fucking foreign, but it's like everything else with Ana. It just feels so fucking right. Screw him. I built an empire from scratch. I CAN save the girl I love._

"I know Anastasia better than you do and I understand what she needs. I appreciate your advice, but I'm going to figure out what's best for her. I'll give you a status report at our next session," Christian said, brushing off Flynn's disapproving stare.

He gathered up his briefcase and confidently strolled out of the office, a renewed sense of purpose in his step.

 _ **AUTHOR'S NOTE: Good news — Christian finally confronts his feelings for Ana. Bad news — he's still our impatient, pushy Fifty. I wanted Christian to be a good guy in this story who's not afraid to move forward with Ana, but I didn't want him to be perfect either. He assumes it's in his power to make Ana all better, but mental illness is not that simple. He is moving too fast for her, and that will have serious consequences in the next few chapters that will force them both to face certain realities before they can get their HEA.**_


	19. Chapter 19

Ana awkwardly slipped on the satin cream gown that fit her like a glove, staring at the unrecognizable woman in the mirror. The dress looked stunning. She felt like a fraud.

She tried to gather her limp hair into some kind of ponytail, but she couldn't get the ends to stay in the rubber band she found.

 _Who the fuck goes to a gala with a rubber band in their hair anyway? Crap! I should've just accepted Christian's offer to have a stylist come do my hair and makeup. Now I'm left accessorizing with cherry-flavored lip gloss from the pharmacy on campus and a rubber band I found in the kitchen drawer. Maybe I can put some mousse in it? Wait, don't you have to do that after you've showered? Maybe I just need more rubber bands? Why did scrunchies go out of style anyway? I thought they were pretty nifty and they came in all kinds of colors._

Ana whipped around when she heard the door creak open — Christian's salacious gawking interrupting her scrunchie analysis.

"You look breathtaking baby," he said, walking up to fold her into his arms.

"I don't know what to do with my hair." _Other than brush it._

"Just leave it down. It doesn't matter," he murmured, sucking on the delicate flesh of her collarbone. His hands skated down her bare back before coming to rest on her satin-covered derriere. Christian hummed in appreciation as his erection began poking her belly.

 _I guess he's more an ass man than a hair man. If he doesn't care about my hair, hopefully no one else will notice it then._

An unbidden thought suddenly sprung into her head.

"What if they ask how we met?" she asked, alarmed.

He chuckled, dropping a kiss on her forehead. "Relax baby. GEH sponsors a number of scholarships and fellowships at the University of Seattle. I'll just say I was visiting the school when I bumped into you on campus."

"Oh OK. That makes sense I guess," she said meekly.

"Ana relax. For the umpteenth time, your very active imagination is overthinking this," he reminded her, tapping her lightly on the head. "It's just a night out with some colleagues. In fact, I think this will give you just the shot of confidence that you need."

Ana frowned at the undercurrent of condescension in his remark.

"I don't know Christian. I'm not sure talking to a roomful of your colleagues is exactly going to inflate my ego."

"They're the ones with the egos — not you. And you're going to wow them. Trust me baby. You'll see. But listen, while we're on the subject, there's something I need to talk to you about," he said, guiding her to sit on the bed next to him. _Now is as a good time as ever Grey. She's bound to start recognizing a stocky, six-foot-tall bodyguard lurking in the shadows at some point._

"I'll keep the paparazzi away from you, but I do have to consider the fact that my business associates will see us together. That means people will know you're a part of my life. That in turn means I have to take some added measures to keep you safe," he casually informed her.

Ana jaw went slack as she gaped at him in confusion.

"I'm a very wealthy man Ana, and there are all kinds of people in this world. I'm merely proposing is to put some security on you — to protect you _and_ protect my peace of mind." _Well, not quite proposing, since it's a done deal and Sawyer has already been watching you, but there's no need to quibble over trivial details._

Christian interpreted her ashen appearance as a bad sign.

"It would be just one person, a military man that Taylor has thoroughly vetted. He'll be in the background. You won't even notice he's there baby," he reassured her, his knuckles stroking her upper arm, eliciting a trail of goose bumps.

"So, so you mean he would follow me wherever I go — school, home, here?" Ana spluttered, horrified by the prospect.

"Yes baby, but like I said, you won't even notice him. He's not spying on you — just watching out for you. You simply go about your normal routine and ignore him."

"How can I ignore someone who's stalking my every move? I don't need a bodyguard Christian. No one even knows who I am. I don't understand this!" she shrieked, the decibel in the room reaching a crescendo pitch.

"Anastasia, calm down. Don't get riled up," he chastised her. "I'm not trying to upset you but _yes_ you do need a bodyguard. You're with me now and I won't take any risks where you're concerned. Sawyer is a professional. This is what he does for a living. You have to trust him and, above all, trust me. I only have your best interests at heart. My family also has protection. I may only be a businessman, but I'm a high-profile one and that celebrity status comes with certain inconveniences. Unfortunately, there's a price to pay for people who are close to me, although I try to minimize the disruption to their lives as best I can. But it is a necessity. We are together now Anastasia and this is nonnegotiable," he declared with authority.

"But have you assigned protection to your previous submissives?" Ana pointed out, feeling steamrolled but determined to put up a fight.

"No," he admitted, "but I haven't taken my other submissives out in public either. And I refuse to keep you locked away in the playroom like some trophy."

 _So instead you're going to parade me around your arm in public, like a different kind of trophy?_

"Look Anastasia, I need you with me at certain events. So I'm sorry but yes, this is a necessary evil," he said presumptively, as if it was a done deal already.

Ana chewed her lip, unconvinced. Christian upped his sales pitch.

"Ana, I realize we didn't discuss this in the contract, because we both assumed it would never come up as an issue. But it has. I'm a busy man who wants to spend time with you. I need you to accompany me to certain functions. Consider it part of your duties if you prefer. But as a result of us being seen together in public, I need to assign someone to watch over you when I'm not around. I'm sorry Anastasia, but this is who I am and this is the Dom you chose," he said, purposely alluding to their agreement.

Christian didn't want to resort to playing his trump card. He didn't want to remind Ana that she was his sub. It wasn't the box he wanted her to conform into. _But what choice do I have? She won't agree otherwise and this is what's best for her._

Ana felt bulldozed by Seattle's most esteemed businessman/bachelor. She didn't want to go to this party tonight. She didn't want a bodyguard following her around. But she didn't want to lose Christian either. In the end, he was her Dom. _And if I want to keep him as my Dom, I have to satisfy his wants and needs. This is exactly why I always avoided relying on other people or becoming too emotionally vested, so that I never had to sacrifice any part of myself other than my body to please them. But what choice do I have now? I'm not ready to give Christian up. He's made me feel alive for the first time in, well, forever. I can't lose that — or him._

Ana sighed. "OK, I guess the bodyguard is fine if he keeps out of sight," Ana acquiesced.

"Terrific." He clapped his hands together until he saw her dejection.

"Ana, trust me on this," he said, wrapping his arms around her and tenderly nuzzling her neck. She relished the contact — but not her capitulation.

Christian ignored the niggling voice that reminded him he was blatantly abusing his position of authority. _She'll get over it. And if not, I'll make it up to her later. I love her and I won't let anything happen to her, ever._

Meanwhile, Ana ignored her own subconscious reminding her that she should never go along with anything that made her uncomfortable just to keep a man. But then she remembered their explosive confrontation and how close she came to losing Christian. That walk back to her room to gather her belongings and leave Christian for good felt like a walk to the execution chamber. Not even the news of her mother's death had left such a wrenching chasm in her heart. _Better to lose a part of your independence than what's left of your heart I suppose._

"OK, I trust you," she said, hugging him back. "I know you're only doing what's best."

"I am. Thank you baby." He rewarded her with a slow, sensual kiss before taking her hand in his. "It's getting late. We should head out. Don't worry about a thing. I'll take of you. I promise. You'll have fun tonight and you won't even know Sawyer is there. You won't regret this baby."

Ana gave him a weak smile. _Unfortunately, I think I will._


	20. Chapter 20

_**AUTHOR'S NOTE: Here it is – the start of the ball! This is going to be spread out over several chapters because the ball and its aftermath are really the climax of this story. Enjoy!**_

 _ **Also, I know for some reason reviews aren't showing up on the site. Hopefully they fix it but I do get them and I'm assuming they'll be posted once they fix the glitch, so please keep sending me your comments – thx!**_

Ana rotated her neck in every direction, doing her best "Exorcist" imitation as she tried to absorb the resplendent surroundings. The ballroom was decked out in glittering chandeliers reminiscent of "Phantom of the Opera," rows of waiters held champagne flutes and the linen-draped tables were topped with elaborate arrangements of orchids and lilies that seemed to touch the ceiling — which, incidentally, boasted a Michelangelo-like mural that looked like it came straight out of the Sistine Chapel.

"This is all for a children's cancer charity?" she whispered, in awe. "Even that magnum bottle of Dom Perignon in the corner?" _I'm assuming they don't give that to the kids._

"I know," Christian chuckled, patting her arm, which was looped around the crook of his elbow. "Pretty ostentatious isn't it?"

"Ummm, ya think?"

"Galas are just rich people's excuse to throw a party. Consider it the old person's version of a college kegger. But most of the money from tonight does go to the hospital. Otherwise my company wouldn't be involved."

"I'm sure. You're a stickler for money. I remember — you don't do anything half-assed," she giggled.

"Damn straight Miss Steele." He gave a solid whack on the behind.

"Christian," she exclaimed. "Good lord, don't do that! Have you no shame? Everyone's watching!"

"Relax baby, no one's looking," he chortled. _And no, I have no shame where you're concerned._

"Ummm, actually they are," Ana said, acutely aware that every pair of eyes was on them as they strolled through the opulent ballroom. They had become the main attraction, not the jazz band on stage.

"Why is everyone staring at us?" she breathed, mortified.

"Probably because I have a beautiful woman on my arm," he shrugged.

Ana rolled her eyes. _I believe it might have something to do with the tuxedo-clad billionaire who looks like he just stepped off the pages of GQ._

"Did you just roll your eyes at me Miss Steele?" he crooned, his thinly veiled threat accompanied with a rub of her backside.

"Yep," she confirmed. "And hands to yourself Grey. You deserved that eye roll. Seriously though Christian, have you really never brought a date to one of these things before?"

"Nope," he said, popping the "p" before bending down to kiss her hair. "Never did that at one of these things either." He began to laugh again.

"Christian, I don't appreciate that you seem thoroughly amused by my embarrassment," she rebuked him, withering under everyone's intense stare.

"Sorry, I can't help it." He snaked his arm around her waist, pulling her closer to him. "Relax baby, I've got you. I won't let you fall."

 _I'm more worried I'm going trip over my tongue than over my two left feet, although that's a distinct possibility as well._ Ana glanced down to make sure she didn't stumble in the ridiculously high heels Christian had given her.

When she looked back up, she was petrified to find four dapper men and two smartly dressed women already swarming around them like vultures on a carcass.

"Grey," one of the men belted out. He had slicked-back dark hair, an average build and appeared to be in his 50s "Surprised to see you here. Don't you usually dispatch Ros to these things?"

"Not always. Occasionally I get out of the office as well," Christian responded in a clipped, businesslike manner.

"I see that. And who is this lovely lady with you?" Everyone leaned in, their rabid curiosity erasing all pretense of restraint.

"This is Anastasia Steele, my date. Ana, this is Miles Blackstone, a local venture capitalist." _And a royal pain in my ass, like most of the people in this room._

A hush descended over the crowd. Ana wasn't sure if it was alright to chime in, until Christian gave her waist a supportive squeeze.

"Hello, nice to meet you," she squeaked out, cheeks aflame.

"A delight to meet you as well Miss Steele. Perhaps you'll be a good influence on this recluse and get him out of the office more," he smirked. "Where have you been hiding this young woman Grey?"

 _Away from you and your prying eyes._

"Ana is an international law student at the University of Seattle," he coolly informed the group, ignoring Miles's jab. "Ana, these are some of Blackstone's colleagues — Melissa, Dan, Sarah, James and Steven."

 _Am I supposed to remember all those names? And how the hell does he?_

"Hello, nice to meet you all as well."

"So Anastasia, what do you do?" inquired the tall, red-haired woman in a flowing, 1920s-inspired silk gown that gracefully hugged her curves.

Ana furrowed her brows. _Didn't Christian just say I studied international law? And is this one Melissa or Sarah? Crap, I wasn't paying attention. And shit, now they're all waiting for me to answer. Don't be rude Ana. She probably just meant what exactly do you study._

"I'm working toward a master's degree in international legal studies. I hope to eventually specialize in gender and human rights issues, but for now, until I formally enter the master's program, my courses are fairly broad and deal more with world affairs and political science in general, rather than the mechanics of international law," she politely explained.

Christian dropped a kiss on top of her head, eliciting a collective gasp from the audience.

He rolled his eyes. _Yes people, I'm not gay. I like girls. I love this one in particular. Get the fuck over it._

"Intriguing. If you'll allow me then, I'd love to pick your brain about Turkey. One of my clients set up an investment company in Istanbul a few years back, but now with this military coup and all the other shit going on there, the country seems to be going to hell in a hand-basket. What do you think?" he quizzed her.

Christian's jaw ticked. _He better not be trying to put her on the spot. I'll sink that $8 million deal with his shipping investor if he even tries to imply that she's not smart enough for this group of blowhards._

Before Christian could cut in, however, Ana replied, buoyed in part by the recent paper she wrote on Turkey.

"I wouldn't quite frame it that way," she whispered uncertainly, "but it is a real shame to see what's happening there, between the military coup, instability in neighboring Syria, Islamic State-inspired terrorist attacks, conspiracy theories swirling about the Gulenist movement and of course President _Recep_ Erdogan's own authoritarian spiral. Just a few short years ago, it was a model of an Islamic-inspired democracy and an emerging economic powerhouse, but now it's anyone's guess what will happen next."

Miles looked immensely pleased with himself. For once, his rival Grey wasn't the star of the show. Maybe the cankerous recluse had finally met his match, he thought.

"Very insightful summary Miss Steele. I've been wondering about those conspiracy theories myself. Any truth to them? Do you think Erdogan is a dictator now?"

Christian's body stiffened, a surge of protectiveness threatening to make him snap.

Ana heard the low growl emanating from him and assumed it was directed at her _. Shit, I better give everyone an answer before I embarrass him._ So she straightened her shoulders and went for broke.

"I'm generally not a believer in conspiracy theories Mr. Blackstone, but the Gulen movement is a fascinating enigma. It does a ton of good work, funding charter schools throughout the U.S., which many people aren't aware of. It espouses Islam's long-lost emphasis on math and science, in addition to promoting women's rights and religious dialogue, along with a tolerant strain of Islam. So ostensibly, it's a natural ally of the West. And for years, it was indeed aligned with Erdogan's moderate Islamist government. At the same time, however, it's a shadowy movement whose followers have infiltrated the ranks of Turkey's police, media and judiciary. Erdogan and the Gulenists clearly had some sort of falling out a few years back, and now their feud is spilling out into public view. The fact that the U.S. harbors the movement's founder — whom Erdogan now considers a fugitive — in some secluded Poconos retreat has put a tremendous strain on the bilateral relationship and fueled suspicions back in Turkey over Gulen's true motives. I for one think it's too convenient to blame the Gulenists for the recent military coup — the country, after all, has a long history of military coups and many elites have been unhappy with President Erdogan for years — but you can't exactly blame Erdogan for being paranoid either. The extent of the Gulenists' influence is unknown and, at times, insidious. Then again, Erdogan's behavior hasn't been exemplary either. He bumbled Turkey's response to the Syrian crisis by backing hardline Islamists, he's imprisoned journalists and he's stifled political dissent. I'm no expert so I can't say if Erdogan has become a dictator per se, but usually in my experience, if it walks like a duck, talks like a duck and acts like a duck, it is, in fact, a duck — or a dictator in this case."

Ana took a breath, hoping her answer was good enough to appease Christian's friends.

Christian stood there, motionless and speechless but exuding pride. _Jesus, I'm one lucky son of a bitch. My baby's a genius. I'm not too shabby myself. Everything is going according to plan. I knew I made a smart decision by bringing her here. She has to see how fucking brilliant and impressive she is now._

"Well Miss Steele," Miles finally spoke up. "I think you're wrong about one thing. You certainly can call yourself an expert after that elucidating description. Grey, you have yourself quite a girl there. You better hang onto her."

Ana began to squirm in Christian's embrace, unaccustomed to the limelight. Christian tightened his grip on her, not appreciating how everyone's eyes were glued to her.

"Don't worry Blackstone, I fully intend to," Christian said gruffly _. I'm not ever letting her go_. "Now, if you're quite finished interrogating my date, I have some other people I'd like her to meet."

Ana barely got a goodbye in before Christian yanked her toward the bar.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to talk so much. I hope I didn't sound pretentious. I just wasn't sure what you were expecting. I can go back…"

Christian cut her off with a demonstrative kiss smack-dab on the lips, weaving his hands through her hair so she couldn't pull away from him.

After a few heated moments, he lifted his head, smiling. Ana's breathing grew shallow as she spied dozens of cell phone cameras furtively capturing their little spectacle.

"What are you doing?" she gasped.

"Kissing you," he said matter-of-factly, taking her hand as he led her to the bar. "And don't apologize for that performance back there. You were spectacular baby — just like I knew you would be. You finally managed to shut old Blackstone up — something I've been trying to do for years. They were all blown away by you."

She gripped his hand tightly. "Christian, I'm really uncomfortable. I feel like everyone's staring at me. There are so many more people here than I thought."

"It's alright baby. Ignore those nosey fucks. You're doing amazing, just like I knew you would. Have a drink. It will loosen you up." Christian turned to the bartender. "A gin and tonic with a splash of lime." He glanced down at Ana. "White wine OK?" _See, I'm learning. I didn't order for you this time._

Ana nodded.

"And a glass of your best chardonnay," he demanded.

Ana guzzled her wine, hoping it would ease her nerves, though all it seemed to do was amplify the pounding in her head.

They spent the next hour roaming the room, Christian rudely brushing off the businesspeople he deemed a waste of his time. He proudly showed Ana off to everyone though, encouraging her to talk about everything from the populist rhetoric dominating the U.S. election to America's trade deficit with China. By the time dinner rolled around, she was drained and hoarse. She had probably spent more time talking over the last hour than she had in the last three years of her life. In the meantime, Christian doted on Ana's every move, ensuring that she tried every hors d'oeuvre, her glass was never empty and she met every VIP in the room.

Finally, the whirlwind slowed down as people took their seats. Christian and Ana went to the front table by the stage. He pulled Ana's chair out for her and took a spot next to her. Julia Harper, one of the ball organizers who had been hovering around him all night, suddenly piped up.

"Oh Mr. Grey, we have assigned seating and your spot is actually right over here," said the attractive woman in a demure yet bold red dress with lacy black accents.

Ana smirked. _Conveniently next to you I see._

Christian shot Julia a look that made her visibly shrink. "I don't care. I'm sitting here," he snapped before tossing the reserved nameplate on his seat, which read "Adam Wexler," across the table to Julie. "Have Wexler sit in my place."

 _Cause that teenage-looking techie punk ain't sitting next to Ana. He's one of the few people here who's the same age as her and I'm pretty sure I saw him oogling her ass earlier._

Julia meekly switched out the nameplates, her face as red as her dress. "Of course Mr. Grey. I apologize for that mix-up."

Ana leaned in to whisper in Christian's ear. "That was a little rude. She was only doing her job."

"She was being a pain. I'm not sitting away from you."

Ana pursed her lips and began to nibble on her salad.

Christian sighed. "What?"

"Just because she's a pain doesn't mean you should treat her disrespectfully. It's a big deal to these people that you're here Christian. They're just trying to make you happy," she quietly reminded him.

Christian dug his fork into the seared Ahi tuna on his plate. "No need to apologize Ms. Harper. Thank you for switching out the seats," he grumbled before taking a bite.

Julia's entire demeanor changed, her cheeks flushed with excitement as she ate her appetizer. "You're quite welcome Mr. Grey."

Ana reached under the table to grab Christian's hand, rewarding him with a squeeze.

Christian lifted their entwined hands to his lips and gave her knuckle a soft kiss.

"Happy now Miss Steele? I made nice with everyone. You certainly have me by the balls don't you?"

Ana choked on a piece of tuna.

Christian laughed, handing her a glass of water. Streaks of pink immediately colored her cheeks.

"And you'll have me by the balls again later tonight Miss Steele," he purred in her ear, amused and aroused by her reaction.

Ana glanced around the table. Sure enough, everyone was mesmerized by their little exchange. She gulped down her water, attempting to avert their watchful gazes.

Taking pity on his girl, Christian leaned back in his chair and began to talk with the man to his right, giving Ana some breathing room.

She happily resumed eating her salad until the woman to her left began peppering her with questions.

 _Melanie? No that doesn't sound right. Mariah? What the fuck was her name? Melissa — that's it! Duh Ana, just read the nameplate on the table._

"So have you two known each other long?" she inquired.

"Huh, oh no," Ana said, stuffing the last piece of lettuce in her mouth. "Barely a few weeks."

"Well kudos. In that short span of time you've managed to become the talk of the town. He's never brought a date to any event before, so you're the first. Congratulations."

 _Congratulations? What did I do other than piggyback my way into a party? And what does she mean talk of the town?_

"Uhhh, thank you. But it's no big deal. We're just friends," Ana muttered, desperate to downplay their connection.

Christian tensed when he overheard Ana's last remark. He leaned back in his chair, crossed his legs and nonchalantly draped his arm around Ana's shoulder, all while pretending to be listening to the man next to him as he droned on about satellite phone technology. Christian grabbed a strand of Ana's hair and began mindlessly twirling it between his fingers, his hand skimming the top of her exposed cleavage.

Ana nervously took a sip of her water, trying to brush off the shameless display of affection. But Christian was having none of it. He was staking his claim — and sending a clear message to his "friend."

 _That's right baby. We're way more than just friends._

"We'll I'm glad he's found a _friend_ in you," Melissa winked, giving Ana a knowing smile. "We all need friends every now and then."


	21. Chapter 21

_**AUTHOR'S NOTE: The character of Melissa is actually a good guy. I do have one of those evil, conniving women later in this chapter, but I wanted to include a pro-woman character like Melissa to sort of balance out the cliché that all women are after Christian and plotting against Ana :) Let me know what you think! Btw, the White House reference is a real thing. Washington Post had an Interesting article on how female staffers worked together to have a stronger voice.**_

After an hour, Melissa and Ana had struck up a comfortable rapport. Melissa was a self-made investment banker who grew up on a small farm in Texas. She put herself through college by bartending and was now one of the few female hedge fund managers in Blackstone's firm. Melissa wasn't shy about the fact that she, like most of the women in the room, found Christian to be drop-dead gorgeous. Ana found her candor refreshing. _At least she doesn't hide her drooling_.

"Is it hard being the only woman executive in your company?" Ana asked, nibbling on her sea bass and filet mignon. _This is like two entrées in one. Oh wait, it's a fancy version of surf and turf. Duh!_

"The job itself is hard. But like most woman, I have to work twice as hard to be viewed as an equal. It bites but it's a fact of life in male-dominated professions like finance. You'll see. I suspect international law is similar — a bunch of men who think they know how to rule the world, even though they're usually the ones messing it up and then quietly leaving us with the clean-up," Melissa said, erupting in deep-throated laughter.

Ana giggled, attracting Christian's attention. She discretely shook her head, trying to signal for him to leave them alone. Christian was glad that Ana was finally warming up to someone, though he was irrationally envious that another person was monopolizing her time. Christian grunted and resumed his conversation, though he continued to eavesdrop on Ana and Melissa's chattering.

"It's funny," Ana mused. "Whenever we have a roundtable discussion in class, the men are never scared to speak up, even if they're spouting nonsense. The few women, however — myself included — only speak up when we're 110 percent comfortable with a topic and have done exhaustive research on it."

"Studies have shown that women tend to be far more prepared than men on many subjects, but they are much more risk-averse when it comes to talking about them. Part of it, perhaps, may be that men are natural-born risk-takers, but I suspect it has something to do with the fact that women get pilloried when they're wrong, whereas men are let off the hook more easily — or even congratulated for taking a chance."

"So men are less afraid to fail, because society gives them a softer cushion to land on?"

"Good way to put it. Let's face it, women are held to a higher standard. I have to be nice but tough, approachable but not a pushover. I can't tell you how many times I've been complimented on my suit or my smile after a meeting. People mean well, but what the hell does that have to do with my presentation? Can you imagine if Grey gave me a business presentation on acquiring a company and at the end, when he asked for my opinion, I told him I liked his outfit and his pearly whites?"

Ana put her hand to her mouth to stifle her laughter.

"Exactly. You're a smart girl. I'm sure you've experienced this in college. What's your philosophy when you have to dress up for a nice event? How do you pick out your clothes?"

Ana scrunched her nose. "I try to pick out something flattering, but demure. Conservative but not dowdy."

"Precisely. Professional women have to be feminine but not frumpy. They have to be restrained, but not too restrained, alluring, but not slutty. It's an impossible line we have to straddle. Men, they pick out a tie."

"The beauty of double standards," Ana giggled.

"Get used to 'em sweetie. I have to be one of the guys around my coworkers if I want to get ahead. So much business is conducted on the golf course or a bar. Either I be a priss and exclude myself or I hold my nose and listen to their juvenile talk about banging the new receptionist. It's the sad reality a lot of women in the investment world face."

"But all men can't be like that?" _Christian isn't. He's bent over backward to put me on a pedestal. Then again, he also makes submissives bow down before him._ Ana shook away the thought. "After all, women can be just as cutthroat as men," she pointed out.

"Of course they can be – and caddy. Don't get me wrong. You shouldn't see the working world solely through the prism of gender. It's not that simple. But as a woman, the disparities and sexism are impossible to ignore. The era of 'Mad Men' is far from extinct. I try as much as I can to support other women when it makes sense. Here's a classic example: How many times have you sat around the table, a woman makes a suggestion, it gets dismissed, an hour later a man makes the same suggestion and lo and behold, everyone applauds him for being a genius?"

"Holy shit," Ana whispered. _That happened to me the other day in econ class._

"Right. My advice? When that situation arises, women should speak up and congratulate the female colleague who made the initial suggestion. It's a subtle but effective form of camaraderie in the conference room. I even read that female staffers in the White House have employed this strategy."

"Wow," Ana said, thoroughly impressed by Melissa's business savvy. "Thanks. I'll keep that in mind."

"No problem. I actually mentor young girls so this is the kind of stuff I regularly talk about. Confidence doesn't come naturally to most people. It's learned."

"That's nice to know. I guess I could use a few lessons before I go applying to jobs then."

"Well, here's my card. If you need something or want to chat, give me a ring. In the meantime, I actually have to duck out of here early to finish this proposal I'm working on."

"In other words, you're working twice as hard as everyone else," Ana smiled. "Hope your boss at least appreciates it."

"He better! Actually, Blackstone's a pretty decent chap. His mother was a single working woman who died fairly young of breast cancer, so he's huge in raising awareness about women's issues. Also been married to the same woman for 25 years, which I respect. Every other executive is on his second or third wife, who coincidentally keeps getting younger and younger."

"I guess it goes to show that you can't judge a book by its cover. I sort of pigeonholed him as the stereotypical chauvinist CEO," Ana said guiltily. "I should've given him more credit."

"Don't feel too bad. He _was_ testing you on Turkey. And you passed with flying colors. And like you said, women can be just as bad as men." Melissa motioned to the bevy of ladies elbowing each other to get a moment with Christian.

"Keep an eye out on your man. Although I suspect, based on the googly eyes he's been giving you all night, you don't have much to worry about."

Ana's cheeks were on fire. "Thanks," she mumbled. "It was great talking to you Melissa. I really appreciate your advice."

"Nice talking to you as well," Melissa said, rising from her chair. Christian instantly rose to meet her, not only out of chivalry but also out of gratitude for making Ana comfortable.

"Melissa, it was a pleasure seeing you. Why don't you call Andrea to set up a lunch when you're free?"

Melissa gawked at him before regaining her composure. Christian Grey was not exactly the type to offer a personal lunch to just anyone. She even heard that the mayor of Seattle had problems getting an audience with him. "Ummm, thank you Mr. Grey. I'll certainly do that."

Christian sat back down, reaching out to tenderly stroke Ana's cheek.

"Are you having a good time baby? It looks like you and Melissa got along well."

"Yes, she's so nice and down to earth," Ana beamed.

"Good. You should definitely take her up on her offer and call her some time. In the meantime, will you be alright on your own for a bit?"

Panic washed over her face.

"It's only because I got wrangled into saying a few words before the live auction. One of the auction items is a weeklong stay at my house in Aspen."

"You have a house in Aspen?"

"Yes, and a few other properties across the country." His blasé attitude toward money never failed to unnerve Ana.

"I only volunteered to speak because you scolded me earlier about how important this charity is to the organizers. Your little lecture made me feel guilty."

"I'm sorry. I never thought…" _I had that kind of influence over you._

"Nothing to apologize for baby," he cut her off with a swift kiss. "It's a new feeling to be put in my place."

"Somehow I highly doubt it's a feeling you'll have to get used to Mr. King of Seattle," she winked.

"Somehow I doubt that's true Miss Has Me By The Balls," he parried back.

"Christian," she shushed him, outraged. "Stop saying that out loud!"

"Stop saying what out loud?" A spectacular brunette with green eyes interrupted their banter.

"Adrianna, how are you? I was wondering if I'd see you here tonight." Christian rose to his feet and shook the woman's hand. She wore a royal blue dress with a thigh-high split that revealed her slender legs and an intricate bodice that accentuated her ample chest.

"Like I could avoid it," she scoffed. "Terry would kick my ass."

"Tell that old ball-buster I said hello," Christian said, turning to his shell-shocked date. "Ana, this Adrianna Peyton. She's the senior VP at Seattle-Scape Communications, a firm we often work with. Terry Lambert is her boss. Adrianna, this is my date, Anastasia Steele."

Ana rose to her feet, standing a good six inches shorter than the statuesque Adrianna.

"It's a pleasure to meet you Miss Peyton," Ana said, shaking her hand. _Oh my God, she's flawless. Even her skin is as soft as silk. She should bottle that up and make a hand cream or perfume out of it. This woman is the embodiment of female perfection_. _Hell, if I batted for the other team, I'd have the hots for her!_

"Please, call me Adrianna. Grey, you didn't tell me you were bringing a date tonight. Now I've lost my claim to fame as your only date to one of these things," she admonished him, playfully swatting his arm.

Ana raised her brow. _I thought no one could touch him? And I thought I was his only date?_

Christian coughed, rubbing the back of his neck. It was the first crack in his veneer of impassivity that Ana had seen all night.

"Adrianna and I weren't dates," he rushed to explain. "We've always been the two single-largest contributors to the cause. As such, we tend to be seated together. That's all." _And have the first dance together, but since I'm already up shit's creek, Ana doesn't need to know that just yet._

"Lighten up Grey. I was only joking," Adrianna said, slapping him on the arm again.

 _How many times is she going to touch him?_

"Mind if I pull up a chair? Those Archer-Bell investment people strong-armed they way onto my table and I think one of them is hoarding my dessert."

"Of course. The person next to me stepped out," Christian replied, smoothly holding out a chair for Adrianna. As soon as he and Ana sat back down, he reached for Ana's hand, pulling it onto his lap while reflecting on the awkward turn of events.

He had done business with Adrianna for years and respected her workmanlike ethic and no-nonsense attitude. Her indescribable body was an added bonus. Christian never mixed with business with pleasure, although he toyed with the idea of introducing her to the lifestyle over the years.

 _There's no denying I wanted to fuck her brains out. I was seriously tempted. I'm only human after all. We have chemistry and she's one of the few females who doesn't fawn all over me and get on my nerves. She's also one of the smartest, shrewdest businesswomen I know. We would've been compatible. I had a feeling though that she wasn't cut out to be a submissive, and I wasn't about to risk our business relationship or my reputation to find out. I can't believe I even flirted with the possibility of trying vanilla with her. I definitely put that pussy up on a pedestal. But I figured if I was ever going to go "mainstream" and give up the lifestyle, it might as well be with a gorgeous woman whom I got along with relatively well and who shared my interests._

Christian's thumb lovingly grazed Ana's knuckles.

 _Thank God I didn't fucking settle. In just one week, Ana evoked more feelings in me than Adrianna has in three years. So what if I could come home and talk acquisitions and mergers with her? All I want to do now is come home and hear Ana's inane theories about which California housewife is talking smack on TV, or taste her piss-poor chicken, or watch her bite that lip when she tries to concentrate on a book or enjoy any of the other idiosyncrasies that make her distinctly mine. Fuck, love really does turn men into saps._

Adrianna continued talking shop with Christian while Ana eyed the chocolate mousse in front of her with distaste. Not only was she full, she felt like a third wheel. _Accrued interest, amortization, blue chips, funded debt, hypothecation — what the fuck language are these two speaking? They obviously know each other very well. I wonder how well? Oh stop it Ana. At the end of the day, you're just his submissive. It's not your place to know. You're in the big leagues now — and clearly out of your league._

Christian leaned over, concern on his face. "What's wrong baby? Do you not like the dessert? I know you're not a fan of chocolate. I can have the kitchen make you something else."

"No, no. I'm just full from all the food. That's all," she reassured him.

"What about some fruit? I can have them bring some out for you."

"No Christian. Thank you but please stop fussing." _I know he means well — and is probably just trying to make me feel better about the goddess next to him — but his sweetness is about to give me a cavity. It's embarrassing. Christian should be out mingling, not babying his immature date._

"I'm not fussing. I just want to make sure you've had a proper meal."

Ana could see by the narrow slits of Christian's eyes that he was frustrated with her. "It wasn't just proper — it was gluttonous. And I've reached my limit. Please, don't worry about it," she pleaded.

"Fine," he relented. "They're signaling for me to go up on stage. I'll be back in a few minutes."

"OK," Ana gave him an encouraging smile. "Good luck."

As soon as Christian left the table, all of the men and women turned their attention to each other, losing interest in Ana now that she was just another guest. _I guess I'm only important as long as Christian is by my side. Even Adrianna is ignoring me, which is just as well. I was pretty invisible to her from the start. Not that I'm complaining. I could use some peace and quiet._

Ana watched as Christian strolled onto the stage with ease and offered a succinct summary of his property. An initial bid of $24,000 quickly ballooned to $110,000 by an eager army of women waving their bid paddles in the air.

"They think that if they buy a week at Christian's house in Aspen, that he comes with the property," Adrianna joked.

"Oh," Ana giggled. "At least it all goes to a good cause."

"Have you been to his place in Aspen?" Adrianna inquired, as innocently as she could.

"No. We haven't known each other very long."

"I see. What is that you do Anastasia?"

"I'm an international law student."

"A student," Adrianna said, unable to conceal her surprise, or judgment. "Sorry, I assumed you were in business like Christian."

"No. We just bumped into each other on campus a few weeks back." _That's the story we're going with right?_

"I see. How unusual," she observed, deep in thought. "For Christian, I mean. He's pretty immersed in his company. I didn't realize he visited local universities."

"GEH apparently has some scholarships they sponsor at my school," Ana replied, fidgeting with the stem of her crystal wine glass. _And please don't ask me any more questions because I'm a crappy liar._

"So, international studies? That's an interesting major. Do you travel the world much?"

"No, I've actually never been outside the U.S." _Or the state, for that matter._

"Really?" Adrianna said in disbelief. "So what else do you then besides school? Classes can't take up all of your time."

"I work," Ana mumbled, taking a mouthful of her mousse, hoping it might stop Adrianna's interrogation.

"Where?"

 _No such luck._

"At a hardware store," she said bashfully.

"A hardware store," she repeated in snide shock. "Not too many young girls work in a hardware store. What a unique occupation."

"It's a nice family-owned operation and it pays the bills. I just stock the shelves and ring people up. Oh, speaking of ringing, would you excuse me a moment," Ana said, motioning to the phone in her purse as if she'd just received a text message.

"Of course. Be my guest," Adrianna replied with false courtesy.

There was no text. Ana was discovering the fine art of using a smartphone to look preoccupied. She aimlessly scrolled through the screen, reading the latest weather forecasts. When she glanced back up, she noticed Christian was being mobbed on stage by three women who had won the auction bid and were posing for a photograph with him.

 _They're not as pretty as Adrianna, but they're definitely up there. Jesus, beautiful women just seem to sprout out of the woodwork when he's around, like weeds._

Ana quickly looked back down at her phone, surveying the weather updates for other cities. _Hmmm, it's going to be chilly in Gloucester. Wait, where is Gloucester anyway?_

Amid the female frenzy, Christian's eyes never left Ana. He saw her playing with her phone and promptly whipped out his to text his newest employee.

 **Sawyer – is Ana alright? What is she doing?**

The burly bodyguard was standing guard not far from their table, unbeknownst to Ana. Taylor had already informed him about the boss's paranoia when it came to Miss Steele and he was prepared for it.

 **She is looking at her phone Sir.**

Christian rolled his eyes. _No shit Sherlock._

 **I can see that. What is she looking at?**

Sawyer peered over.

 **From my vantage point, she doesn't appear to be looking at anything in particular. Weather updates I believe.**

Christian frowned. _Is she bored? Are people ignoring her? No, I saw Adrianna talking to her. Did she say something to upset her? I wouldn't put it past her pretentious ass._

 **Did anyone at the table say anything to her?**

 **I only heard a few snippets Sir. I believe the woman you were speaking with earlier asked Miss Steele about her travels and her employment at the hardware store.**

Christian dropped his phone in his pocket. "Ladies, if you excuse me, I have to be getting back to my table. Congratulations on the bid. Enjoy the house," he brushed off his fan base as he exited the stage.

"Hi baby. What are you doing?" Christian took his seat, taking Ana by surprise.

"Oh nothing." She fumbled with her phone before tossing it in her purse.

Christian eyed her suspiciously.

"I was checking the weather," Ana whispered, her face beet red.

"Why?"

"Just curious," she shrugged.

"Christian, I can't believe your house fetched a cool $130,000. Congrats. You should take Ana to see your place. I heard she hasn't had a chance to travel much," Adrianna goaded him, knowing full well that the commitment-phobic billionaire was rarely seen in public with women. Pressuring him to whisk one away to his private home would only up the ante.

"Of course. I'll take Ana wherever she'd like to go," Christian said, affectionately gazing at one woman while snubbing the other. He knew Adrianna was a shrewd operator. He respected that in his professional life. But his personal life — and Ana — were off limits. "So, what were you two ladies chatting about while I was gone?"

"Oh not much," Adrianna casually replied. "Ana mentioned that she worked in a hardware store. Did you know that?"

"Of course." _I know everything about her._

"It's just not a typical job for a young girl in school," she said condescendingly.

"That's because your family put you through school Adrianna," he pointedly reminded her. "Most people don't have that luxury. They have to work their way through it. And I didn't realize women had 'typical' jobs."

Both Adrianna and Ana grimaced, for different reasons. Adrianna was offended. Ana was worried about causing a scene.

The MC on stage wasn't about to help matters.

"And now ladies and gentlemen, it's time for our ceremonial first dance, which this year once again goes to Mr. Christian Grey and Ms. Adrianna Peyton for their generous donations," she blared over the microphone as the spotlight swerved in their direction.

Ana visibly shrank as 500 necks craned in her direction as well. She slumped back in her chair, hoping the tablecloth could somehow swallow her whole.

"You ready Grey?" Adrianna winked.

"Just a second," he said sharply. "Go on without me."

Adrianna stomped off as Christian turned toward Ana, tucking a wisp of hair behind her ear.

"Baby, I'm sorry. It's tradition…"

"Christian stop fretting. Please. Of course I understand," she smiled sincerely. "Go on. I'll be here when you get back. I'm looking forward to seeing you strut your stuff on the dance floor."

"You'll see me strut my real stuff later baby," he vowed, kissing her forehead before reluctantly getting up.

 _Damn it, this doesn't feel right. I can't have the woman I love watching me dance with another woman who wants to jump my bones. Shit! How do I weasel out of this though?_

A devious grin slowly spread across Christian's face as he approached the female MC, who had now migrated down to the dance floor. _Time to put this pretty face to good use._

He bent down to whisper something in the woman's ear, his close proximity clearly flustering her.

"Well, ladies and gentlemen, it looks like we have a slight change of plans. Since both Mr. Grey and Ms. Peyton have brought dates this year, we thought we'd bring their dates up and let the two couples share the dance floor! Let's all give them a round of applause!"

Adrianna looked like she had just swallowed a sour lemon. Her date was Andy Kaplan, a sweaty, social-climber friend of her father's who had been pestering to go out with her for years.

Christian threw her a self-satisfied smirk. _That's right bitch. You're not the only one who can be conniving. Go dance with that sorry excuse of a date while I dance with my woman._

Christian walked back over to Ana, taking her by the arm while she shook her head in disbelief. "You're incorrigible, you know that right?"

"Only where you're concerned Miss Steele. May I have this dance?"

"Have you left me a choice?"

"Nope. Now get your ass over here."

Christian wrapped one arm around Ana's waist, tugging her close to his, while his other hand clasped hers.

"I don't know how to dance," she warned him. "Your feet may regret this in the morning."

"I'll survive. Just follow my lead baby," he murmured in her ear, his warm breath tickling her.

Ana concentrated on dancing in lockstep with Christian. Her movements were halting whereas his were graceful. But as he glided them across the floor, they appeared effortlessly in sync with one another.

Swaying to the rhythm of Louis Armstrong, their bodies pressed against each other, they were oblivious to sea of onlookers gossiping around them. But Christian couldn't shake the feeling that Ana was still upset.

"Ana, did Adrianna make you uncomfortable?" he asked softly.

"Huh? Oh no, she was just asking questions." _A lot of them, but I think I deflected her as best I could._

"You mean she was being intrusive."

"More like inquisitive. It's fine Christian. Please don't make a big deal out of it. She's your friend. I understand."

"She's an associate. I don't have friends."

"Oh." Ana looked down at her feet to make sure she wasn't stepping on his wing-tipped shoes.

"Nothing's ever happened between us Ana."

"I … Christian, it's not my place," she stammered.

"Yes it is," he said firmly. "And I wanted you to know that."

"Ummm, OK." Ana bit her lip.

"She's very pretty," she whispered, avoiding his gaze.

"Yes she is," Christian confirmed. "Ana, I won't lie to you. I'm a red-blooded male. I was attracted to her. I've been attracted to many women over the years. But I've never been drawn to any of them like I have been to you. You have absolutely nothing to worry about. I would never be unfaithful to you."

"I know. We have a contract…"

"That's not why," he interjected. "I wouldn't do it because I could never betray _you_. Because you're the only woman I want to be with. Period."

Ana nodded dumbly, floored by the vehemence of his words.

He sighed. "I hate that you doubt yourself and, by extension, me."

"No Christian, I don't doubt you," she insisted. "All of this is just hard for me to believe, that's all. I need time to process everything. But I know you have a heart of gold, and not because of your obscene wealth."

"So you think I'm obscene eh?" he teased.

"In many way, yes," she giggled. "But I was referring specifically to your money — and the ridiculous amount that you have of it."

"Only you would think money was ridiculous," he smiled.

"I wouldn't quite say that. I just think some people who have it," she said, gesturing to the well-heeled crowd lining up for a chance to ambush Christian, "can act ridiculous sometimes."

"Am I included in that disparaging portrayal Miss Steele?"

"I think your protectiveness can get a little ridiculous Mr. Grey, but as I said, you yourself have a heart of gold."

"I don't have a heart Ana," he muttered, suddenly forlorn.

"Oh cut the crap. That's the biggest load of baloney I've ever heard," Ana dismissed him, unwittingly laying her head on his chest. He had given her free reign over his body lately, so his rules about touching occasionally slipped their minds.

Christian blinked in shock, disarmed by Ana yet again. _As always, she has a knack for cutting through my bullshit. Maybe I do have a heart. And maybe it's time I tell her that it belongs to her. This is a romantic hearts-and-flowers setting right? Any girl would want to hear a guy say he loves her on the dance floor? Oh fuck it. Even if she rejects you Grey, she can't exactly run away in the middle of all these people, so that's some consolation._

"Ana, there's something I need to tell you," he said solemnly. Ana tilted her head to face him. "I … I … fuck!"

 _You fuck? Yes I'm well aware of that. You're quite good at it._

"Fuck," he exclaimed again as he saw a couple frantically waving at him. He took a deep breath, resting his forehead against Ana's.

"I have some bad news baby. My parents are here."


	22. Chapter 22

_**AUTHOR'S NOTE: I just wanted to say thank you for all the wonderful reviews and notes people have sent. I never know how stories like this will go down because I try to weave in heavy, real-life stuff like depression, politics etc. I know that's not everyone's cup of tea, especially on a site like fanfiction where you just want to escape real life with some lighter stories or over-the-top drama. I totally get it. I love that stuff too. It's just not my style of writing. People write what they're good at I suppose, and this is how I try to make my stories different.**_

 _ **So it really means a lot to me when people say they appreciate that I'm trying to make characters like Ana (and even Adrianna) intelligent. I think it's important to show that guys fall for girls not just because of their looks, but because of what's on the inside, and intelligence can be sexy.**_

 _ **I also just wanted to clarify two things that people have PM'd me about: I added the backstory about Adrianna because I thought it was realistic that Christian would be tempted to try something other than BDSM with some woman at some point in his life. I felt it added to the fact that he truly loves Ana because he's considered going vanilla before. In this story, he's not an emotional monk. He's not this totally closed-off personality, and he's not scared of love. So in my mind, the Adrianna thing was supposed to show how deep his feelings are for Ana because he thought of trying this kind of relationship with another woman, and it helped him realize just how happy he is with Ana, if that makes sense.**_

 _ **Also, I'm sorry if I was confusing about this. In my stories, Ana is not ugly or even that plain. She's like a 7 or an 8 – she's pretty. Or normal, depending on your perspective since looks are subjective anyway. She's just not supermodel-gorgeous-12 like Adrianna. I really wanted Christian to be sort of attracted to Ana in the beginning, but then fall in love with her for her brain and personality. I think that's how a lot of couples work. There's an initial attraction and you go from there. Anyway, sorry for the long-winded note, but a few folks asked about that so I just wanted to explain where I was coming from.**_

 _ **And now last part of the gala. It's true as a lot of you guys pointed out that she's handled herself very well so far. But things become a bit overwhelming now. And it's not so much that she visibly falls apart on the outside, but on the inside, she's a mess. The next two chapters are very heavy. I hope you enjoy everything!**_

 _Oh fuck! His parents? Double fuckedy fuck! I'm in the middle of a dance floor in a gigantic ballroom. It's not like there's anywhere for me to hide. Shit! He must be mortified having to introduce his sub to his parents._

Ana began to slowly inch away. Christian reflexively grabbed her waist to hold her in place.

"Christian!" the woman in a sleek white pantsuit screamed before barreling over to the couple.

"Mom, it's good to see you," he said warmly before giving her a brief hug. "Dad. How are you? I thought you guys were still in the Bahamas this week."

"Your mother wanted us to come home early for the gala. You know this is one of her favorite causes." They both stared expectantly at the young woman twisting her fingers into sweaty knots.

"Ana, this is my mother Grace and my father Carrick," Christian said, thrusting Ana forward to present her to his parents. "Mom, Dad, this is my date, Anastasia Steele."

"Hello. It's nice to meet you both," Ana smiled, trying to hide the slight tremor in her voice.

"Oh my gosh, it's lovely to meet you," the elegant woman gushed, vigorously shaking her hand. "Anastasia, what a beautiful name. Quite beautiful. Isn't that a beautiful name Christian?

He chuckled. "Yes mother, it's very beautiful," he affirmed. _And yes, mother I'm straight_ _and have some semblance of a social life. Wait till she finds out I love this girl. I'm pretty sure her head will explode._

"Anastasia. Anastasia," Grace reiterated, as if to herself. "Really such a beautiful name. And look at your dress. It's gorgeous. Who is it?"

Ana looked perplexed. "Uh, I'm sorry, do you mean whose is it?"

"No no dear. I mean who designed it?"

"Oh sorry! I actually don't know. Christian, errr, well, he picked it out."

Grace clapped her hands together, bursting with excitement. "Christian that's so sweet! You bought Ana's dress for her?"

 _Oh dear God, I think she's about to wet her pants._ Christian turned to his father for help.

Carrick put his hands on his wife's shoulders, trying to rein her in.

"So how did you two kids meet?" he asked, hoping to steer the conversation into more neutral territory.

"We met on Ana's campus. She's an international law student at Seattle," Christian replied before pausing. For once, he wanted to share some news that would finally make his parents proud of him — not about another company he acquired or another deal he had inked. "We've been seeing each other for a few weeks," he said, grinning like the cat who ate the canary.

Grace let out something akin to a squeal that also resembled a cat, but one who had been run over by a car. Ana, meanwhile, looked like a deer caught in the car's headlights.

"That's wonderful! Absolutely wonderful! Oh Anastasia, we have to have you over for dinner so we can all get to know each other better," Grace shrieked.

"Uh, of course, I'd love that. And please call me Ana," she said, her voice wobbly.

"Ana, Ana, yes of course I will. So international law — what a fascinating, ambitious subject. Your family must be very proud of you."

Ana's mouth dropped slightly, her intake of air sharp.

"Ana is a very accomplished young woman," Christian interrupted, rubbing soothing circles on her lower back. _And she doesn't need to start talking about her family, or lack thereof, with my nosy family._ "In fact, I need to introduce her to a few more people before we head home, so if you excuse us mother."

Grace's face lit up — not at Christian's obvious brush-off, but rather at his slip-up. She was elated that her solitary son was going "home" with someone else.

"Who's going home?" a man slurred behind them.

Christian rolled his eyes as his somewhat inebriated brother and his equally tipsy girlfriend approached them.

"We were trying to," he muttered under his breath.

"Oh Elliott," Grace began, "I'm so glad you and Kate came by. You're just in time to meet Christian's girlfriend, Anastasia. Ana, this is Christian's brother Elliott and his girlfriend Kate."

Ana's breathing grew labored as she broke out into a fine sheen of sweat. _Girlfriend? Shit, in the span of three minutes, I've unwittingly met my Dom's parents, been invited to dinner, asked about my nonexistent family and now I'm being promoted to the rank of girlfriend! In another minute we'll be walking down the aisle!_

Ana looked up at Christian, waiting for him to correct his mother. At any moment, she fully expected him to say "this is my date" or "this is my friend," but the clarification never came. Instead, he flashed her a crooked grin and wrapped a strong arm around her shoulder.

"Whoa bro, someone finally popped your cherry! About time," Elliott whooped it up, before Kate nudged his ribs.

"Keep your crass comments to yourself Elliott," Christian said, his tone clipped and curt.

"Stop being so sensitive bro. So Ana, you don't work with Mr. Stick Up His Butt here do you? If so, you deserve a raise."

"Elliott, behave," Grace chided her oldest son.

"Sorry Mom," he grumbled. "I was just trying to make conversation."

"Ana doesn't work with me. She is studying international law. In fact, Ana, you should consider submitting an op-ed to the newspaper where Kate works. I'm sure they would be interested in publishing it given your extensive knowledge of world news," Christian suggested.

Ana gaped at Christian, who continued singing her praises, undeterred and unaware. "Anastasia is an expert on foreign affairs. Pick any country and she can tell you what the biggest issue is that country faces," he said proudly.

Ana self-consciously smoothed down the front of her dress before clearing her throat. "I, uhhh, would hardly say expert. I, ahhh, haven't even gotten my bachelor's degree yet." Ana let out a nervous chuckle. "Sorry. I write more eloquently than I speak obviously."

Everyone laughed. "No worries," Kate said, patting her on the arm. "I can't speak for shit either. Diarrhea of the mouth as my family calls it."

"There's a visual Katie girl," Elliott said, his booming laughter catching Ana off guard.

 _These two are made for each other._

Christian gave her a knowing look. _Yes, they are_.

"OK, I've got a country for you," Elliott piped up, scrunching his nose. "What about the Maldives? My old roommate went there for vacation once and Katie here said she wants to go somewhere more exotic than the Bahamas for our next trip."

Everyone turned to look at Ana, who began rocking on the balls of her heels. "Uhhh, I've heard the beaches are very pretty, so I'm sure you'd have fun. They've had some political upheaval but I guess the biggest issue they face is climate change."

"What will it do to them?" Kate asked, her journalistic curiosity piqued.

"Swallow them, literally." _Which is what I'd like this floor to do to me right now._ "They're only several feet above sea level, so the ocean water will essentially swamp them and the country will cease to exist in possibly a decade or even less."

"Shit, an entire country disappearing! That's no joke. But don't like 10 people live there? Can't they just move?" Elliott said.

"Yes, in theory, but they won't be the only climate refugees in the future. Droughts, floods and erratic weather patterns could potentially uproot millions — and all those millions have to go somewhere. Desperation knows no borders. So eventually, even if a climate event doesn't strike a particular country, it still becomes everyone's problem."

"Oh Ana, I think you should definitely write about that topic," Grace fawned. "You sound very passionate about it."

"Uhhh, that's just a cursory overview. My knowledge really isn't as in-depth as Christian makes it out to be."

Elliott laughed good-naturedly. "Ana, I've never heard my brother compliment another soul in the whole of his life, so let me tell you, if he thinks you're an expert, then you must be the next Albert Einstein."

"She's much better looking though," Christian murmured, squeezing her shoulder affectionately.

The ladies let out a collective "awww."

Ana had a feeling that Christian's plan to beat a hasty retreat was now in tatters. She was right.

Kate and Grace pulled the overwhelmed young woman aside and began peppering her with questions about politics and her personal life, while Elliott scoured the room for some hors d'oeuvres.

Meanwhile, the high of introducing Ana to his family had faded and Christian was beginning to regret putting his girl on the spot.

"Dad," he whispered. "Can you help me save Ana? They're encircling her like a bunch of cackling hens. I don't want them to scare her off."

Carrick glanced up and sighed. "I'm afraid not son. And I have some more bad news for you on that front."

Just then, Christian heard a familiar screech heading straight toward them.

"Oh my God! There she is! You're Ana right?"

Ana gawked at the ebullient girl, nodding her head. Christian was instantly by Ana's side, a protective arm locked around her waist.

"Baby, this is Mia, my younger sister."

Mia pulled Ana in for a hug that left her dazed. "Oh that's so sweet. He just called you baby! You two already have pet names for each other."

Christian yanked Ana from Mia's clutches, his irritability tempered by the love he had for his somewhat-trying little sister. "Mia, how did you know who Ana was?"

"Duh? It's already front-page news," she said, whipping out her phone. "See. It's all over the Nooz. Look at you two dancing! You look so cute together."

Christian grabbed the phone, scrolling through the website while Ana peeked over his shoulder. The headline said, "Elusive Seattle Billionaire Scooped Up By Woman of Steele." Below were a stream of amateurish photos documenting their every interaction over the last three hours.

"How the fuck did they get this?" he barked.

"Hello Christian! Quit being a dinosaur and welcome the virtual, real-time world of the internet," Mia breezily replied. "Did you really think you'd be at one of the biggest social events in town, with 500 people and their cell phones, and this wouldn't leak out? Come on big brother, don't be naïve."

Christian scrubbed his face _. Yes of course I knew it would get out, but not this fucking fast!_

"Christian, how did they get my name?" Ana timidly asked.

"It was probably on the guest list," Mia pointed out. "Don't worry Ana, you look absolutely fabulous in every photo."

Ana gave her a modest smile as she began surveying the room. They were in the middle of the dance floor, the phones were snapping away and the ramifications of her date night were beginning to sink in. Ana wouldn't just be in the news; she herself would be front-page news.

 _Oh God, they know my name. What if they find out I'm a submissive? What if they find out I'm an orphan whose mother OD'd? What if Morton's name gets out in public and people start asking questions about our relationship? Shit, shit, shit!_

Christian saw the terror in Ana's eyes and discretely pulled her to the side. "Mia, I think Mom wanted to ask you something about Sunday dinner," he said in an attempt to give them some privacy.

"Ana, please don't worry about the papers. I'll take care of everything."

"How?" she rasped.

"These rags have been a thorn up my ass for years. It's about time I just buy some of them out to save ourselves the grief," he told her plainly.

Ana stared at him, dumbstruck. _He's going to buy a newspaper to keep my name from being printed in it? Who the hell is this man? And what kind of surreal world have I stepped into?_

She looked around. She could no longer make out the people or the elaborate décor because the room felt like it was spinning. The space was cavernous, but the walls suddenly felt claustrophobic.

"Christian, will you excuse me? I need to go to the ladies' room," she whispered.

"Are you OK baby? Do you want me to come with you?"

 _Why? To help me pee?_

"No, I'm fine. Please just give me a few minutes."

Ana made her excuses to Christian's family before striding toward the exit. Her breaths were short and choppy, her heart was pounding and it felt like a 10-ton piece of cement had taken up residence on her chest.

Before she could reach the sanctuary of the bathroom, however, she bumped into a solid wall of muscle.

"Are you alright Miss Steele? I'm sorry, we haven't been acquainted yet, but I'm Luke Sawyer. Mr. Grey hired me to look out for you, and I just wanted to ensure that you were feeling well."

 _Who the fuck? Oh that's right, my personal bodyguard. Apparently, I'm Whitney Houston now. What does this guy bench-press anyway? Shit, stay focused Ana._

"I'm fine Mr. Sawyer. I'm just going to the restroom."

"Do you need assistance?"

She knitted her brows together. _Why do people keep asking if I need help peeing?_

"Ummm, no. I can manage, thank you."

"OK. I'll keep the other women away from the restroom to give you privacy."

 _Huh? What if they need to pee? Oh fuck it Ana, just get away from this insanity!_

Ana ran into the bathroom and headed straight for one of the stalls, slamming the door shut as she plopped herself on the toilet, head in her hands. She called on her old breathing techniques to quell her rising panic.

 _Breathe Ana. Just breathe slowly. In through the nose, out through the mouth. Slow and steady. That's it. Slow and steady. Deep breaths._

After a few minutes, the palpitations calmed and her vision cleared. With a shaky hand, she rifled through her purse to pull out her phone.

She took one last fortifying breath before looking up the Nooz. It was like an accident scene. She couldn't resist looking. Ana began scrolling through picture after picture of Christian touching her, talking to her or gazing into her eyes. Her panic receded when she saw the visual evidence of Christian doting on her all night. But then, the pictures ended and she caught a glimpse of the comment section. If she thought the photos were like witnessing an accident scene, she was now in the midst of a gory murder scene as complete strangers ripped her to shreds — bolstered by the anonymity of the internet.

" **Why would God's gift hook up with this girl? Body's OK but face is a little busted. Could do way better!"**

" **Is this his way of proving to the world that he's not gay? If so, not very convincing dude!"**

" **Steele. Whatta name! Hmmm, can we say gold digger! One word Grey: Prenup."**

" **Girlfriend my ass! Did you see that hot model chick he was talking to at the table? He's probably already cheating on her anyway."**

" **Dress is nice. She could've at least combed her hair though."**

" **He looks distracted and their dancing seems forced. Bet they don't last five minutes."**

" **He's probably a playboy who bangs hot skanks all night and had to start dating an average girl in public so his reputation wouldn't be ruined."**

 **Some of the comments were flattering. "I think they look adorable together." "She's pretty." "He looks happy." "Sad he's off the market but glad he found love!" But most were atrocious.**

 _How are they deducing any of this from a few blurry photos? Why would people who don't even know me attack me like that? Oh God, what will they say once they do know me and my past comes to light? I'm going to be pilloried and burned at the stake!_

Ana's breathing grew labored again. She threw her phone back in her purse like it was tainted and searched for an old bag of medicine she carried around for emergencies. She took two pills prescribed for her occasional panic attacks and closed her eyes.

Her mind was finally beginning to still when she heard the commotion outside.

"Move Sawyer! She's been in there forever. Something's not right. Ana, are you OK? Let me in," Christian yelled, banging his fist on the door.

"No, please. I'll be out in a minute."

"I'm coming in damn it!"

"I said no! I will be out in a minute," she screamed, her voice hard and unforgiving.

Ana slowly got up, exited the stall and splashed some water on her face.

She exhaled and left the bathroom, only to be met by her Dom/date, who looked to be on the verge of hysteria. _Maybe he needs some of my anti-anxiety pills_ , Ana idly thought.

"Baby, what's going on? You ran out of there like a bat out of hell. Are you alright? You look pale. Should I get my mom?"

She put her hand up and motioned toward the line of women behind them. "Christian, please calm down. I'm absolutely fine. Don't cause a scene and let those poor women use the bathroom before they ruin their fancy ball gowns."

She looked at him with imploring eyes. Christian lips formed a thin line as he took Ana's elbow and led them toward a secluded alcove.

"Ana, I'm worried about you. What's going on?"

"Nothing Christian, I swear. It all just became a bit too much for me and I needed some air. I'm sorry. I know it's rude, but I'm really tired and I think it's best if I go home. Maybe Mr. Sawyer can take me home so you can feel free to stay as long as you need to."

"Ana, there's no way you're leaving without me," he said adamantly.

"I don't want you to leave on my account."

"I could care less about that Ana. We came here together and we're leaving together."

"Fine, that's up to you, but either way, I need to go. I can't be here any more," she told him in no uncertain terms. _And I should've put my foot down about an hour ago. Hell, I should've done it days ago._

"Then we'll go."

"What about your parents?"

"They'll be fine. I'll text them and let them know we had to go. Taylor," he barked. "Get the car. We're leaving." Ana looked up to see Christian's trusty head of security lurking around the corner. _When did he get here?_

Christian wrapped his arm around Ana's shoulder, escorting her to the lobby. "Come on baby, we're almost there."

As they emerged from the building, a few stray paparazzi that had camped outside to catch a glimpse of Seattle's new "it" couple sprang into action. The flashes of their bulbs temporarily blinded Ana, but Christian drew her close and pushed through the crowd.

"Stay the fuck away from her," he snarled, shoving one man off the curb while he opened the car door.

In a blur, she found herself in the backseat of his Audi, a very agitated Christian beside her.

"We're going home to Escala," he ordered Taylor. "Step on it."

 _I had hoped to go to my own home to decompress, but I guess that's not an option._

"Ana, are you alright? What happened back there? You need to talk to me."

Ana pinched the ridge of her nose and took a several deep, calculated breaths. "I'm fine. I don't mean to be rude, but I just need some quiet, please."

Dejected, Christian looked out the window, trying to still his own racing mind.

Taylor sped through Seattle's deserted streets and they were in the Escala parking garage before they knew it. When Taylor got out, Ana spoke up.

"I'm sorry. Occasionally I get panic attacks in large crowds. It hasn't happened in a long time, but sometimes I get nervous at parties or the kinds of social situations you usually go to. I should've mentioned it before but I didn't think it would it would be an issue," Ana whispered, eyes fixated on the floor of the car. She suddenly let out a humorless laugh.

"Add it to my list of neuroses." _And to the many reasons why I'm not right for you_.

Christian reached over to stroke her hair. "I'm a homebody too," he said, picking up on her thoughts. "We're more similar than you think. Tonight was an exception for me too. We'll avoid the crowds from now on."

"Oh no, please don't do that on my account. I would never want to hold you back. It's important for your job to be out there. I totally understand."

"Please," he scoffed, arrogance personified. "Those parasites need me more than I need them. I'm past the point in my career where I need to suck up to anyone or pander to the party scene. Money talks. They'll see me on my own time, not theirs."

"Oh," Ana mumbled.

 _Way to sound like a cocky prick Grey._

"I'm very protective of my time Ana," he added. "I don't waste it. That's why I want to spend it with you."

"And I feel the same way. But I don't want you to sacrifice your lifestyle just for me. I don't want you to ever have to compromise on the things you love, whether it's the playroom or parties."

"Those aren't the things I love," Christian said sadly. _You are. I just don't know how to get you to believe it. Or how to tell you._


	23. Chapter 23

_**AUTHOR'S NOTE: I just wanted to send a special shout-out to Millarca666, MissG909, LuvSummer, sherree357 and everyone who has sent PMs. Thank you for your encouragement and kind words. They've truly inspired me :)**_

 _ **As I've always said, this is a dark story. These next two chapters are the heaviest before things turn around for C &A. In addition to depression, I thought it was important to raise the issue of anorexia because I know there are a lot of young women on this site and I just think there's so much pressure nowadays for girls to look perfect (that's in part why I don't like my Ana to look perfect) and anorexia is sadly a disease I've seen women struggle with. Also, suicide is all too common among young people but is still somewhat taboo to talk about. More people should be open about it because often the people who commit suicide are the ones you least expect it from, and the signs can be hard to see beforehand. So I just wanted to touch on all of this and at least raise some awareness of it.**_

 _ **Enough with my PSA. Hope it all makes sense! Please let me know what you think.**_

Christian eyed Ana warily as they rode the elevator up to his apartment, his hand glued to the small of her back as he tried to gauge her mood. "Are you hungry baby?"

She gave him a look that put an end to that line of inquiry. His countenance fell.

When the doors opened, he took her hand, bypassed the kitchen and guided her to his bedroom.

"Come. I have something to show you."

Ana dutifully followed, stepping into the palatial but sparsely decorated room. She had only peeked in a few times before to announce that a meal was ready.

Christian opened a drawer and fetched one of his T-shirts before walking back to Ana. He slowly unzipped her dress, watching it pool to the floor. Ana's breath quickened.

 _Does he want sex? Shit, that's the last thing I'm in the mood for, but it's not like I have the right to deny him._

Christian gave the nape of her neck a gentle kiss before slipping the T-shirt over her head. "Do you want a nightcap? I was going to make myself one."

"Yes, that would be nice," she said, relieved.

Christian returned with two tumblers in his hands. He put them down on a nearby nightstand and sat down on the cushion of a large bay window, his legs sprawled open.

"Come sit with me."

Ana came over and maneuvered herself between his legs. His arms came across her chest as she leaned back.

"I thought you'd like the view," he said, kissing her temple. "I figured you might need to unwind after tonight."

"I do. This is spectacular. Thank you Christian."

"You're welcome baby."

She took a deep, relaxing breath, her eyes mesmerized by the flickering expanse of lights laid out before her.

"I like watching the world around me," she murmured absentmindedly. "I'm not good at being a part of it."

"You were great tonight though." He handed Ana her glass and then took a sip of his own drink.

"I had no choice," she said with a tinge of resentment. _You made me go_.

"Regardless, you excelled Ana, just as I knew you would," he said with a trace of irritation. "I wish you had more faith in your abilities."

Ana grunted, too tired to argue about her supposed abilities.

Christian watched as her eyes drifted off to fleeting specks in the distance. Her meditative expression reminded him of that afternoon he spied on her from his car.

"I saw you — that day you walked home in the rain," he quietly confessed.

She shot up and twisted her body to face him. "What do you mean?"

"I followed you, in my car, when you refused to accept a ride from me. I just wanted to make sure you were OK. I'm sorry. I wasn't trying to invade your personal space, but I was worried and needed to ensure that you made it home safely."

Ana shook her head in disbelief. "I was walking home in the rain Christian, not an F5 tornado."

"You're not the only one with neuroses Ana. Your safety is nonnegotiable to me."

She sighed and laid back down on his chest. "Christian, I'm perfectly safe. No one cares about me."

"I care about you," he said vehemently.

"That's not what I meant. I just mean that I'm not important."

"You are to me."

"Wrong choice of words then. I'm not well-known. Or at least I wasn't until tonight," she said ominously. _So much for the comfort of anonymity_.

"Baby, trust me. I will take care of those bloodhounds. You don't become a billionaire without being able to twist a few arms. But that's why Sawyer is so important for now. He needs to be with you at all times. It gives me peace of mind."

"Can we not talk about security and all that stuff tonight?" she said, visibly annoyed.

"Fine," he muttered.

After a few minutes, Christian broke the oppressive silence.

"What were you thinking? That day you sat on the bench by the marina."

"Nothing in particular. I tend to zone out and just watch nature. I try to focus on the bigger things in life, on the fact that my problems are relatively small in the grand scheme of things."

"Oh."

"It was a random trick I picked up during a college group therapy session I signed up for when I was a freshman," she elaborated. "One of my professors noticed I was pretty withdrawn and suggested I check it out. I figured I had nothing to lose by sitting in."

"Do you want to tell me about it?"

 _What do I have to lose? You know everything else about me. And whatever you don't know, you'll find out through Sawyer's spying._

"It was more useful than all those one-on-one therapy sessions I did with shrinks. I didn't have to talk, which was nice, and I listened to girls who struggled with all sorts of issues. No cutting but a lot of depression, anxiety, alcohol abuse, domestic violence, anorexia and bulimia. I remember this one girl Molly in particular because she was so upfront about her anorexia. It really struck a chord with me for some reason."

"What happened to her baby?"

"She was just 11 when it started. She began obsessively counting the calories in every cracker and sip of juice after some friends teased her about being 'chunky.' At her lowest she was 85 pounds and could barely muster the strength to stand. She showed me a photo. It was as if she had walked out of a concentration camp. Skin was hanging from her bones. She was a ghost of a person. The worst thing was that she knew it. Molly was fully aware that she was starving herself to death but couldn't help it. Maybe that's why I could relate to her. I knew my cutting was destroying me, but I couldn't stop whatever compulsion was driving me to do it. The rationale side of you knows that what you're doing is wrong, but the emotional side propels you to overrule logic and common sense. It's hard to explain to normal people."

"There's no such thing as normal in this crazy world Ana. Everyone has issues. Trust me," Christian gently reminded her as he stroked the skin of her arms, encouraging her to continue.

"I suppose you're right. Molly used to say that too. She had a real matter-of-fact attitude about life and said that everyone is fucked up, just in different ways. But she recognized that she had a serious problem and reached out for professional help. Even after undergoing extensive therapy though, she still had no taste for food — having spent years avoiding it. The mere thought of eating made her want to wretch. Yet she fought her aversion to food every day and literally forced herself to eat in order to live. Despite her progress, it was still a constant, unremitting battle that consumed her every waking moment."

Christian kissed Ana's cheek, deeply disturbed by the idea that someone's mind could turn against them so viciously to the point where they couldn't stomach what they needed in order to survive. "I'm sorry about your friend baby. No one should ever have to go hungry for whatever reason," he said, panged.

"I know. I couldn't agree more. One day, I got up the courage to talk to her outside the session. I told her I really admired her for sharing her story. She could tell I wasn't comfortable delving into my own story and respected that. We grabbed some coffee and talked that afternoon. She told me about two unusual techniques she'd tried over the years to tackle the anorexia and the inevitable bout of depression that followed it. She used to volunteer at hospital wards with patients facing all kinds of diseases, many of them interminable. She hoped it would give her a new perspective on life — help her appreciate it more. After a while though, she felt guilty about her anorexia. She disparaged herself for creating a 'self-induced' disease while other people had no choice in getting sick. I told her she shouldn't compare illnesses or trivialize what she's endured. She had no choice either. But in that sense she was just like me — hard-headed," Ana snorted.

"And humble baby. She had more compassion for other people than herself." He planted a soft kiss on her head.

"I suppose. Anyway, she told me that she stopped going to hospitals and tried something simpler. She made it a point every day to spend one hour just looking at the world around her — whether it was staring at the trees in a forest or people on a chaotic sidewalk. She said it helped her slow down and see that there was an entire world that didn't revolve around her or her problems, which in an odd way helped her not to dwell on them as much."

Ana continued talking, the alcohol having opened the floodgates of her buried memories.

"It was a little unorthodox, but whatever floats your boat I guess. I never really tried it though. Molly graduated and moved shortly afterward. She was a few years older than me and had landed a great job in New York with a huge architectural firm. I would occasionally check out her Facebook page. She was all smiles. Her family and friends seemed so proud of her. A year later though, I found out she had committed suicide. Overdosed on some sleeping pills. No one saw it coming. Her family, understandably, was crushed. My theory was that her success, ironically, might've contributed to her downfall. I think everyone assumed she had vanquished her demons, but I don't know that you necessarily recover from something as traumatic as anorexia. You're reminded of it every day at mealtime after all. I suspect the pressure to be 'cured' might've gotten to her somehow. It's just speculation. I didn't know her very well but out of respect, I took her advice and began to take time out of each day to watch the world and try to appreciate it — for people like Molly and the patients at the hospital who no longer had that luxury."

Christian rested his chin atop Ana's head, his heart swelling in admiration. "I think that's a very meaningful way to honor her legacy," he murmured.

"It's funny," Ana ruminated, as if speaking to herself. "I've read that one of the most effective strategies for preventing suicide is to show people that taking their own lives isn't a solitary act. For lack of a better term, some people call it a selfish act because you pass the misery down to the loved ones who mourn for you. I suppose that makes sense, but it never really applied to me. I had no one to mourn me. So I had to devise an alternative strategy. Taking the time to watch boats float in the water or squirrels play in the park seems rather trite, but it worked for me. It reminded me that the world is much bigger than me and won't stand still for my petty problems. It was simple but effective and it became a part of my routine, in addition to school, work and submission. That's all I had. In a bizarre way, paring down my ambitions helped me cope with my scattered emotions. Having a complicated life can lead to, well, complications. But seeing things in black and white gave me focus: Finish school. Pay my bills. Enjoy a sunset here and there. It wasn't much but it gave me a little something to look forward to — and it persuaded me to hang on whenever I felt the urge to give up on everything. Does that make any sense? Sorry, I know I'm babbling."

"Ana, you're not babbling. I've told you countless times before, you're beautiful. The way your mind works never fails to astound me. Thank you for sharing Molly's story with me. I'm honored that you did and I'm so sorry about your friend. I wish there something that could've been done to save her," he said earnestly.

"Me too," Ana hummed, lost in thought. Christian squeezed her to him tightly. Inside though, he was gripped by trepidation. It was slowly dawning on him that Ana's problems ran so much deeper than he alone could handle.

His mind went into overdrive. Every revelation hardened his determination to help Ana. But for a fraction of a second, he contemplated letting her go for his own purely selfish salvation _._

 _I won't be able to survive if one day, years from now, I lose her. If she ever takes her own life, mine wouldn't be worth living any more. Can I take that risk?_

A shudder ran through him. A life without Anastasia. His heart physically seized at the prospect, and just then, he realized that either way, he was a goner. He couldn't risk _not_ having her in his life.

 _Even if I break all contact with her and something happens to her years from now, it wouldn't lessen my grief. I would still be just as devastated, if not more. She's already stepped into my life and it would be empty without her. I just have to ensure that she never steps out of it._

So Christian resolved to never let her out of his sight — to always be by her side and help her overcome whatever hurdles were thrown her way. With that realization came another epiphany. He looked down at tiny brunette in his arms, whose eyelids were fluttering closed, the combination of alcohol and anxiety finally getting to her.

 _This woman is going to be my wife. I am going to marry her and spend the rest of my days with her, for better or worse._

Christian was shaken by the vulnerability Ana had displayed tonight, but also secure in the knowledge that he would love this woman no matter what the future had in store for them.

With that thought in mind, he carefully picked Ana up and laid her sleeping form on his bed before coming around to spoon her from behind. One arm slid underneath her neck and across her chest, while the other wrapped around her stomach, permanently latching her to him.


	24. Chapter 24

_**AUTHOR'S NOTE: Well, here it is — their big "come-to-Jesus" moment. I hope it lived up to everyone's expectations. I worked hard on it so please be kind :) There are only about four more chapters after this as they build their relationship and Ana gets the help she needs. I don't want to drag this story out (I can't believe I'm already at nearly 60,000 words!). Please let me know your thoughts and thank you everyone for the personal notes after the last chapter. It really means a lot that my story has touched people so personally.**_

Ana woke up with Christian coiled around her like a boa constrictor. It felt suffocating. The effects of the alcohol had worn off and reality was setting in. Ana's mind reeled as she played back the night's events — from being paraded around in front of Seattle's elite to meeting Christian's family to seeing her face splashed across the world wide web.

The chirping cicadas and occasional blare of a car horn outside couldn't drown out the voices in her head.

 _How am I in bed with a billionaire who also happens to be one of the most wonderful people on the planet? This isn't my life. What is Christian's endgame here? Does he really think someone as disturbed as me can somehow fit into his world? For God's sake, I just told him I watch sunsets to essentially prevent myself from slitting my throat. I literally confided my suicide prevention techniques to him! He has to think I'm officially certifiable by now. Yet no matter what I say, it doesn't seem to scare him off. This amazing man has so much faith in me, but he gives me too much credit. He assumes I'm strong, but I'll only disappoint him in the long run._

 _I saw my mother. I saw Molly. I know how mental illness works. You never really defeat it, no matter what the pharmaceutical companies would have you believe. It's like any other disease — you can control it, but it's always there, lurking beneath the surface of your somewhat-content existence, just waiting to rear its ugly head when you least expect it. Alone I can deal with that uncertainty, but to subject someone else to that shit? Especially someone as kind-hearted and selfless as Christian? Hell to the no!_

 _The most I can offer a man like him is my submission. It's not only what's best for him — it's what's best for me. I can't start deluding myself into thinking I'm his equal, that my life is going to somehow magically transform overnight because I'm a good lay in bed. Why would I do that to myself? It makes no sense. The minute you start wanting to be happy, you're disappointed when you're not. The solution? Don't get your hopes up in the first place._

 _I mean, it's not like I aspire to be president. It doesn't even enter into my realm of consciousness. And that's a good thing! Because lo and behold, when I find my ass in a cramped studio apartment instead of the White House, I won't be disappointed. Duh! It's not rocket science. It's the same thing with Christian. Do I really think we're going to get married and have two kids and a dog behind a multimillion-dollar white picket fence? The storybook Dom-saves-sub romance? Why would I wish for something that's completely and utterly unattainable? I'm a lot of things but dumb isn't one of them. So why would I set myself up for failure like some idiot?_

 _I shouldn't be here. I shouldn't keep stringing him along — stringing myself along. We'll both get hurt. I'm a submissive. I can't keep pretending to be something I'm not. It's not fair to him and it's not fair to me._

Restless, Ana slipped out of bed, inadvertently waking Christian.

"What's wrong? Where are you going?" he said, groggily rubbing his eyes.

"Back to my room."

"Don't be silly Ana. Just lay down."

"No I can't. This is your room. I shouldn't be here," Ana said, slowly backing away and ratcheting up his frustration.

Christian flung the covers off and stood to his full height. "What does it matter whose room it is? Just lay down and let's get some rest Ana. I'm tired."

"I am too, but this isn't right. I'm supposed to be in the sub room."

"Ana, you're supposed to be with me," he snapped. "It doesn't matter what room we're in. Quit nitpicking. Now come lay down so we can sleep!"

"But the contract…"

"Fuck the contract!" he shouted, reaching his breaking point. "All that shit is moot anyway! You're my damn girlfriend in case you haven't put two and two together yet."

"I can't be," she said, aghast.

"Well you are Ana. I'm done pussyfooting around what's been patently obvious for quite some time now. We fuck. We go to dinner. We spend our free time together. You met my parents. I may not be a relationship expert, but guess what, that's pretty much the definition of dating!"

She let out a strangled cry. "No Christian. I'm a submissive. I can't be your girlfriend. I don't know how…"

"Bullshit," he thundered, startling her. "I'm sick of you underestimating yourself. It's getting old. You know how to be a girlfriend — because take a look in the mirror. That's exactly what you are to me!"

Christian began yanking his hair, his temper fraying. "It's me who doesn't know what the fuck to do any more Ana. I hang on every word you say. I haven't stepped foot inside the playroom. I take you anywhere you want to go, following you around like some stray mutt. If you want to go home, we go home. If you want to watch a sunset, we watch a sunset. If you want to eat minestrone, we eat minestrone. I'm constantly walking on eggshells to make sure I don't upset you. I spend half my day trying to come up with ways to make you happy. I'd give you the world on a platter if you just asked me. But fuck! I don't know what more to do here. I don't know what the hell it's going to take to make you happy Ana!"

"Nothing," she exploded. "Can't you see? _Nothing_ makes me happy. I'm a perennial basket-case who has absolutely no business saddling someone else with my shit! There's nothing you can do. I'm a lost cause! Always have been. So just stop doing this to yourself. Save yourself the heartache and aggravation. It's not worth it. I'm not worth it," she screamed, running out of the room.

Christian raced after her, grabbing her arm to whirl her around. "No Ana! That's not what I meant. You _are_ worth it to me. All of this is worth it. That's the point! I'm willing to do _whatever_ it takes to make you happy. Because," he swallowed, his fingers digging into her skin. "I love you. With everything that I am. I love you. Can't you see that? I. Love. You," he said, enunciating each word.

Ana shoved him off of her so hard that he almost lost his balance.

"NO! Stop it! Just stop it! Can't you understand? I don't see what you see. Why the hell would anyone want to be with me — I can barely stand to be around myself most of the time! Why do you keep trying to change me? Why? Do you want to get my hopes up just so they can be crushed again? Why? Everything was fine between us the way it was. Now I'm an emotional wreck every other night questioning everything I've come to rely on to survive. I told you, I may have never thrived in life, but I managed to get through it. Can't you understand? I'm not cut out for this! I need to be a sub. I need a contract. I need things spelled out for me in black and white so I don't mess them up! So I can protect myself! So I can operate! Why are you doing this to me? WHY?"

Ana broke down sobbing uncontrollably, collapsing into a huddled heap on the floor. Christian instantly dropped to his knees, protectively gathering her into his arms.

"Jesus Ana, shhh, shhh. It's OK. Please baby, calm down. It's alright. It's alright," he chanted into her hair, panic-stricken. "Don't cry. It's all going to be alright. Just breathe. Breathe for me baby."

Christian rocked her back and forth, desperately trying to console her. Her only response was a primal wail and a torrent of tears saturating his shirt.

"Ana, I'm sorry, so fucking sorry. Calm down. Please. It'll be OK. I promise. You don't have to do anything you don't want to do. Please baby, just calm down," he pleaded, tears forming in his own eyes when he felt violent heaves wrack her tiny frame.

"Shhh, shhh," Christian cooed into her ear. "Shhh. I'm here. Shhh."

Finally, after half an hour of weeping into his shoulder, Ana had exhausted herself.

She pulled back, her bloodshot eyes swollen and virtually unrecognizable.

"I don't want you to see me like this," she rasped, her vocal chords strained and her head slumped in shame.

Christian gently grasped her chin to tilt her face toward his.

"Look at _me_ ," he croaked, his own eyes puffy with tears. "You have nothing to be embarrassed about. I did this — to you, to us. I did exactly what Flynn warned me not to do. I pushed you too far too fast. I abused your trust in me as a Dom to get you to do what I arrogantly assumed was in your best interests, even though I knew you were so much more to me than a submissive. It was manipulative and abhorrent of me and I'm so incredibly sorry."

Ana shook her head. "Please don't blame yourself for my breakdown. I can't bear it. You've been nothing short of amazing to me. None of this is your fault."

"Yes baby, it is," he said sadly. "I thought I was helping, but instead I was hurting you. And I'm so sorry. I'll do anything you want me to do. We can keep the contract. We can tear it up. We can be friends. Or I can take you home and you never have to see me again." A wave of nausea roiled his gut, but he tamped it down. _This is about Ana and her needs, not yours Grey._ "Believe me, the very last thing I want is for you to leave, but I'll do whatever it takes to make you comfortable Ana. I swear. I'll follow your lead from now on and back off."

Her shimmering blue eyes penetrated his, reminding him of the ocean after a fierce storm. "Do you want me to leave Christian? I have problems, very serious problems that I do my best to control but that may or may never go away — no matter what you do. Are they too much for you to handle? Be honest with yourself and with me. Tell me the truth."

"No Ana. I swear to you that I don't want you to leave, ever. I know you have problems — so do I — but you're the love of my life. Nothing will ever change that," he paused, studying her astonished face. "What about you? Do you want to leave? Tell me the truth. I can take it."

"No," she mumbled, her voice cracking.

The lines on Christian's forehead instantly vanished, his relief palpable.

"I'm glad," he breathed.

"But if I stay, we have to slow things down. I'm sick of you looking at me like I'm some China doll about to break. This has to stop."

"I understand," he said, chastened. "I mean it Ana. I really do. I'm happy with whatever you're willing to offer me."

She nodded. "I'll do my part too. Maybe I can meet with your guy Flynn. I won't promise anything but I'll talk to him. And I like that we're close outside the contract, but I still need that piece of paper. I don't care if it's a redundant security blanket, I can't," she sniffed, "I can't just throw it out. I can't be your girlfriend overnight and have dinner with your parents and hobnob with rich people and move into your bedroom and have gun-toting security guys follow me around and my face plastered all over the tabloids," she began to ramble, her breathing ragged.

"That's fine. All of that is absolutely fine Ana," he rushed to reassure her, stroking her hair. "Shhh. I'll take care of everything, I swear. We'll take it nice and slow. You dictate the pace from now on baby."

"OK. Thank you," she smiled in gratitude.

His knuckles grazed her splotchy cheeks, trying to soothe away her lingering anxiety.

"I know it's late but do you want me to take home? If you're more comfortable in your own bed, I'll completely understand."

"No. If it's alright, I'd just like to sleep in my room."

"Of course baby. Can I carry you?"

"OK," she rasped.

He carefully reached under her arms to lift her, her frail body melting into his embrace. A part of her loved the fact that someone actually wanted to take care of her. But another part reminded her that she didn't want to be bound to Christian by his sympathy and her weakness.

"Christian, I have to ask you something. And I need you to dig deep inside yourself to answer this honestly. Don't hold back."

"What is it Ana?" he said apprehensively as he laid her down on the bed.

"Are you doing this out of pity? Out of some ingrained sense of obligation because you feel sorry for me and want to rescue me? You have such a good heart, whether you realize it or not, and I understand that you only want to help. It's beyond admirable. But is that what all of this comes down to? A deep-seated need to help another human being who's wounded? Is your kindness what's motivating you? I have to know. Do you see me as the woman you love," she gulped, "or as a victim to take care of?"

Her voice was feeble but firm. Christian took a long, deliberate breath as he mulled over her words carefully.

"Ana, I do feel an innate sense of protectiveness toward you. I have from the beginning. I can't deny that. It would be the end of me if something ever happened to you. But it's not just about keeping you safe. I enjoy seeing you happy. It makes me happy, so I want to do anything in my power to ensure that you continue to be happy. I realize it's not that simple though. It's only now dawning on me that I can't will certain things to happen, no matter how tenacious or determined I am. This is so much bigger than me. But that doesn't mean I won't be there for you every step of the way while you work through your struggles. And wherever you end up, I'll be there as well."

He expelled a long breath. "As to your question, I'm not doing this out of pity. I'm doing it out of love. Pure and simple. I know I promised that I wouldn't overwhelm you, so perhaps this isn't the answer you want to hear, but you asked for truth — and that's the fundamental truth of what drives me to help you. I love you. I love that you read the personal stories of war-torn refugees not because you have to for school, but because you feel it's a moral obligation to learn about those whose lives are less privileged than ours. I love that you hate red wine but drink it anyway because it's my favorite and you like to keep me company. I love that you have no clue about classical music but are willing to listen to every piece I play because you have such an open, curious mind. I love that you sing while you're cooking, even though you're a horrible singer — and an even worse cook. I love that you can laugh at yourself when you bump into the same coffee table every day and then accuse me of secretly moving it around on you to trip you up. I love that you can appreciate sunsets and stupid TV shows and all the other little things I've always taken for granted. I love your smile, your eyes, your beautiful mind, your witty sarcasm, your caring nature, your sexiness, your resilience, your humility, your humanity, your ability to cut through the bullshit, your insights on life, the fact that you don't take my crap yet still somehow manage to put up with it and see some redeeming value in me. I love everything about you — the good, the bad and the ugly. I just love you Ana."

Ana's chest began to heave uncontrollably. For a second she wondered if she was still asleep and dreaming, or just hallucinating from the alcohol. Christian instantly began caressing her cheek in a soothing circular pattern.

"Ana, listen to me. I'm not saying any of this to pressure you. In fact, I wouldn't want you to say those words back to me anyway. This isn't the right time or place. You've had a traumatic night. I just wanted to be completely honest with you. But from now on, I also vow to respect your boundaries and stop rushing you."

"Christian, you are the most amazing human being I have ever met. I'm in absolute awe of your strength, your gentle soul, your mind, your drive and all of your quirky moods. But I'm not ready to say the words," she paused thoughtfully. "Yet. I have so much work to do on myself — work that I have been avoiding for years. But I am ready to tackle my issues, for myself but also for you, because I want us to be together."

Ana reached up to tenderly sweep the tufts of hair that were falling over his forehead. "I want you to know that no person in this life has ever meant more to me than you do. You make me want to not just get through the day, but actually live it."

"Oh Ana," Christian choked out, enveloping her in his arms. "You have no idea how much it means for me to hear you say that."

Ana hugged him back with all of her might. After several minutes they pulled apart, Christian wiping away an errant tear from her cheek.

He gazed down at her with such adoration that she felt like the most treasured woman on the planet. It suddenly hit her like a bolt of lightening illuminating the night sky. _This man truly does love me_.

Normally, Ana's inclination would be to ask _if_ Christian wanted to stay with her tonight. After all, she didn't want to assume anything or guilt him into staying. But for the first time, she realized there was no need to question herself, or what they shared. She knew what he wanted — and what she wanted. They wanted to be together — to build a life together — not as dominant and submissive, but as partners.

"Stay with me tonight. Hold me," she whispered, lifting the covers in invitation. It wasn't a question. It wasn't a request. It was a girlfriend telling her boyfriend that she needed him.

"Of course baby." He leapt inside the bed, his arm outstretched. Ana snuggled into crook of his shoulder, her hand resting atop his stomach.

"Is this OK?" he asked, wrapping his arm around her.

"Yes. Thank you."

"Thank you baby," he kissed her hair.

As Christian's breathing evened out and Ana settled into his embrace, she realized that it no longer felt suffocating. It felt soothing — and right.


	25. Chapter 25

For the next eight weeks, true to his word, Christian didn't deviate from his promises. He managed to tamp down speculation about Ana in the media by bribing a few choice gossip rags and enlisting the help of the Kavanaugh family since they controlled half the newspapers in the city. He told his parents in no uncertain terms that even though he was seeing Anastasia, he was not prepared to bring her around the family just yet because they were taking things slow. He coordinated with Ana on her protection, and she was now directly in touch with Sawyer regarding his schedule, which helped her feel more in charge of her own security. She continued to sleep in her room, but Christian slept with her every night, having essentially switched bedrooms. And while Christian had taken Ana on numerous private outings — on his boat, to a few discrete restaurants and two quiet bed-and-breakfast getaways — he hadn't taken her to a single business dinner or gala. They spent most nights at home, catching up on work and on each other.

Meanwhile, true to her word, Ana began seeing Flynn on a regular basis. He weaned her off of her outdated prescriptions and began a new regimen, gradually introducing new medicines depending on her tolerance level, while engaging in extensive talk therapy.

She appreciated Flynn's conservative, incremental approach to medicine. The side effects were minimal and he didn't rely on meds as a cure-all. They leveled out her moods, helping her feel stable but not sedated — and more prepared emotionally to discuss her issues. She had never had a psychiatrist who emphasized talking over pills. During her many sessions, she was slowly opening up about her past and learning to modify certain behaviors and thoughts. It was an arduous process — reminding herself that she was worthy of Christian's love went against every fiber in her being — but she was beginning to at least recognize her negative thought patterns.

Ana was accepted into the university's graduate program and was set to receive her bachelor's degree in the spring with full honors. After a long discussion, she agreed to let Christian pay off all of her student loans so that she didn't have any debt hanging over her. She also let him buy her a car — not the souped-up Audi he was gunning for, but a safe, reliable Subaru that was a fraction of the cost. She cut back on her hours at Clayton's to focus on school and a possible internship at a law firm, but was still able to work enough to pay her own rent. Even though she spent most nights at Christian's penthouse, she resolved to always maintain her own apartment as both a symbol of her independence and as a backup plan.

Ana was still uncomfortable making new friends on campus, however, especially now that she was automatically associated with the elusive Christian Grey. She wasn't sure who was genuinely interested in getting to know her, so she shied away from the attention all together. But she was re-introduced to Elliott, Kate and Mia and began to enjoy their company. She suspected that Christian had a little pep talk to warn them that she wasn't a naturally outgoing person, which suited her just fine because they seemed to take things slow with her.

Behind closed doors, Ana was becoming increasingly brave initiating physical intimacy with Christian, and when they were out together, they always held hands, but otherwise he refrained from groping her in public. After four weeks of hemming and hawing, Ana officially began referring to Christian as her boyfriend.

She agreed to have dinner with his parents next Sunday and was looking forward to getting to know the people who raised such a remarkable, resilient man.

At the moment, Sawyer was taking her to have lunch with that very man at Grey House. They were having their first joint session as a couple with Flynn later in the day. Prior to that, Christian asked Ana to join him at work so he could show her around his office. They were also following Flynn's suggestion to devise a new contract that reflected and redefined the parameters of their budding relationship.

Ana knew Christian was just humoring her with the contract. It basically reiterated their sexual limits, even though neither had been back in the playroom or had a strong urge to return. It also spelled out the terms of any average girlfriend-boyfriend relationship: **"Anastasia and Christian will decide together which evenings they choose to spend together," "Christian will discuss any gifts with Anastasia prior to giving them," "Anastasia and Christian will notify each other of their schedules," "Christian will consult with Anastasia on where they go for events/dates," "Anastasia and Christian will spend the night at each other's residences whenever their schedules permit," etc.**

The contract essentially washed away all limits and lines between them, but for some reason Ana still felt at ease having everything written in black and white. So Christian happily appeased her.

With revised contract in hand, Ana strode into the gleaming, light-filled lobby of GEH. As she approached the front desk, however, her step faltered once she realized that she forgot the all-access pass Christian had given her weeks ago.

 _Of course I'd leave the damn pass at home. I was so preoccupied with the contract that I forget the very thing that was actually going to get me inside the building. Bonehead!_

Ana shook her head. _Remember what Flynn taught you — stop beating yourself up. Everyone forgets things every once in a while, so give yourself a break. It's not a big deal._

"May I help you Miss?" an amiable young blonde at the front desk interrupted Ana's inner monologue, eyeing her curiously.

Ana's expression went blank before she blinked a few times. "Oh sorry," she stammered. "Uhhh, I'm here to see Christian Grey."

"Do you have an appointment?" she asked brightly.

"Errr, I don't know. I mean, he told me to come by, though I'm a little early."

The woman threw her a dubious look but maintained a polite smile. Anastasia wasn't the first woman who walked into GEH on a daily basis claiming to have an appointment with Mr. Grey.

"What is your name Miss? I can look up his schedule in our system."

"Anastasia Steele."

The woman scoured the list but no "Anastasia Steele" appeared on the rundown.

"Could it be under a different name?"

 _Baby? No stop being silly Ana — he's not exactly going to put that into GEH's computers._

"Ahhh, no I don't think so." She chewed her lip pensively before deciding that she had no other choice but to out herself. "I'm his girlfriend," she whispered, impressed that the receptionist didn't recognize her. _Nice to see that not every young woman reads those gossip rags._

"I see," the woman said evenly, careful not to outright dismiss the stranger in front of her. "Well, I can call his personal assistant to verify your identity."

Ana's face brightened as she read the woman's name badge to thank her properly. "That would be great. Thank you Veronica. I really appreciate that."

Giving her the benefit of the doubt, Veronica buzzed the 20th floor but after several tries, no one picked up. It was almost lunchtime so half the floor was out while the other half was busy with an all-hands-on-deck executive meeting.

"I'm sorry Miss Steele. Miss Parker isn't picking up. There is a large meeting currently taking place. I could take down your information and pass it to them when they become available."

Beads of sweat broke out on Ana's upper lip.

 _Shit, I forgot Christian said he had some big meeting today. I shouldn't have come early and disturbed him. Maybe I should just go back to the car and hang out with Sawyer until he's free? Or I could just call him real fast and maybe Taylor can let me up? Well, the first thing I should do is stop staring at this poor girl who must think I'm either constipated or crazy._

"No that's OK. I'll just call Christian on his cell. Thank you for your help," Ana said, walking away. Veronica looked at her as if she were delusional, but gave her a compassionate smile nonetheless.

 _Fabulous. She feels sorry for me because she thinks I'm one of Christian's nutty female stalkers. I can't blame her. I am acting a little cuckoo for cocoa puffs here._

Ana began scanning the room on the off chance that she might spot Taylor. She peered through the front doors but couldn't find Sawyer either. _I guess he went to park the car. I could go look for him but Christian would throw a hissy-fit if he found out I went outside "unguarded."_ Ana rolled her eyes as she tepidly pulled out her phone.

A burly security guard glanced over at Veronica to see if she needed assistance with the discombobulated young lady milling around the lobby. Veronica tentatively shook her head, trying to give Ana the benefit of the doubt before she was "assisted" outside.

Ana held the phone to her ear. _Please pick up. Please pick up. That guy on steroids in the corner looks like he's about to escort me to the Christian Grey fan club looney bin._

A crisp voice on the other line greeted her. "Christian Grey's phone. This is Andrea Parker speaking."

Ana had heard rave reviews about Christian's efficient personal assistant, but had yet to talk to her in person.

"Oh hello," she said, a bit flustered when Christian didn't pick up. "Ummm, is Christian there?"

"No ma'am. He's in a meeting and has left his phone with me to recharge. Is there something I can assist you with?"

"Errr, no thanks. I don't want to bother him. When he gets out, could you please just let him know Ana called?"

"Miss Steele?" Andrea's question held a spark of recognition. "Please hang on for just one moment."

The next thing Ana heard was some rustling, a few terse orders and Christian's frantic voice.

"Hi baby. Are you on your way? Is something wrong? Sorry I was in a meeting."

"No nothing's wrong. I actually got here early but I forgot that pass you left for me. I'm sorry. I'm downstairs..."

"Wait, they won't let you up?" he interrupted angrily.

"It's OK. I can hang out if you're busy or maybe Taylor can come down when he gets a chance. No rush. I just wanted to let you know I'll be in the lobby whenever you're..."

Before Ana could finish her sentence, Christian had cut her off again. She heard a muted rant as he palmed the receiver and yelled at someone nearby. All she could make out was "What's the point of the damn VIP list if no one checks it?" before Christian came back on the line.

"Baby, I'm sorry about that. I'm coming down now to rectify the situation."

Before Ana had a chance to respond, he hung up.

 _What situation? I don't suppose Mr. Patience would just send Taylor down instead of going Defcon 5?_

Bemused, Ana shook her head and walked back to the reception area, giving Victoria a sympathetic smile.

 _You have no idea the shit-storm that's about to blow through here, but don't worry, I'll stop him before he does any real damage._

Ana heard the elevator doors chime and saw Christian barreling toward her like a tsunami. His presence sent shockwaves through the lobby — throngs of employees deferentially moving aside for him, like Moses parting the Red Sea.

Before he could unleash his wrath, Ana boldly walked up to him and gave him a hug, catching him and everyone else in the room off guard.

"What happened baby? Did you wait long?" he asked, squeezing her back.

"No not at all. I told you I just forgot that pass."

Christian kept his arm looped around Ana's waist as he turned toward the frightened receptionist.

"Why didn't you let her up? She's on the all-access list. It's separate from the main GEH appointment log. It doesn't matter if she has a pass or not. All you need is her ID and she can come directly up," he barked at the ashen-faced girl.

"Christian, it's fine," Ana said softly. "Veronica was just doing her job. In fact, she was exceptionally polite to me. And she should be commended for not just letting anyone up to your office."

"You're not just anyone," he said, throwing Veronica a sinister glare.

Ana put her hand over his heart, willing him to look at him. Her touch had the intended effect as Christian visibly relaxed.

"Fine," he pouted. "But next time check the right list. Don't make the same mistake again."

"I won't Sir," she said, her voice trembling. "I apologize."

Christian huffed, a tad too dramatically.

Ana gave the girl a merciful smile. "Thank you for your help Veronica."

Christian ignored the stunned stares as he took Ana's hand and escorted her to the elevators. Just before she stepped in, Ana noticed Sawyer observing the exchange from afar.

 _Oh sure, now you come by! Where were you five minutes ago?_

As the doors closed, Ana glanced up at her irate boyfriend, who was busy swiping his card key to access the top floor.

"Are you done throwing a CEO hissy-fit?" she giggled.

A ghost of a smile tugged the corners of his lips.

"Hissy-fit eh?"

"Tyrannical temper tantrum if you prefer."

He wrapped his arm around her shoulder and pulled her close. "You're in my kingdom now baby. What I say goes," he said, leaning down to bite her earlobe. "I have to be the boss _somewhere_."

A knowing grin played on her lips. "Are you trying to imply that you're not the boss at home?"

An inexplicable thrill coursed through his veins every time Ana referred to his place as "home."

"I'm not implying anything Miss Steele other than the fact that you berated me in front of my employee."

"Me?" she pointed her finger at her chest in mock outrage. "I would never berate a big-time CEO like you. I just wanted you to cut the poor girl some slack." She looked up at him with innocent eyes that held a hint of mischief.

"First off, no one who works in my company is poor. Secondly, you put me in my place all the time Miss Bossy Pants," he said, dropping a kiss on her head. "And she was inept."

"And you're silly," she teased.

A wolfish grin spread out across his face.

"Maybe I am, but I just wanted your first visit to the office to go smoothly. I don't tolerate incompetence on any level Anastasia."

Ana reached up to plant a chaste kiss on his cheek before putting her hands on her hips, playfully scrunching her face. "I don't tolerate incompetence on any level," she said, mimicking his stern tone.

Christian pounced, grabbing her by the waist and pinning her against the wall.

"Are you making fun of me Miss Steele?"

She purposely sunk her teeth into her bottom lip. "Yes."

He growled before attacking those plump lips, shoving his tongue deep inside as he pulled her body flush against his.

His hands roughly kneaded her breasts before roaming down to cup her ass, his carnal intent clear. Ana moaned into his mouth, so lost in their frenzied kiss that she barely noticed the massive erection stabbing her belly. Just as their make-out session grew out of control, however, the elevator slowed down and Christian felt tiny hands claw his shoulders.

"Fine. I'll behave," he sighed, pulling away, but not before giving her behind a quick whack. "That's for scolding me _and_ teasing me," he winked, motioning down to the obscene bulge jutting out of his pants.

"Incorrigible Mr. Grey," she yelped, smoothing down her ruffled blouse. "You tease yourself. I suggest you take care of your not-so-subtle 'problem' before you give your colleagues a heart attack."

Christian chuckled and grabbed Ana's hand. Before they stepped out of the elevator though, he turned toward her, his expression suddenly serious.

"Ana, some of my colleagues are here. If you'd rather not meet them, I can take you straight into my office. It's completely up to you."

Ana gave his hand an appreciative squeeze. Ever since the gala "incident," Christian had been exceedingly careful in introducing her to new people so as not to overwhelm her.

"I'm happy to say a quick hello. Short and sweet though."

"Quick hello is fine by me. Save all the sweetness for me," he purred, the implication of his words anything but sweet.

"What are you two lovebirds whispering about in there?" an earthy voice yelled out from the hallway.

Christian rolled his eyes. "And here we go," he muttered before ushering Ana inside his personal lobby.


	26. Chapter 26

_**AUTHOR'S NOTE: Another happy chapter. I wanted to show that physically, Ana still likes dominant Christian, but she also has sex now more on her own terms – so lemon ahead ;)**_

 _ **Stearncs321 – No Elena in this story any more. I just wanted this one to focus more on C &A.**_

 _ **And Millarca666 – The contract makes an appearance (and will make one more down the line, but in a good way ;) Glad you liked the receptionist bit. I got tired of these receptionists always being portrayed as caddy and competitive toward Ana. Thought a professional one would be more realistic.**_

 _ **Hope you enjoy and please review!**_

"Ana, this is my number two Ros, who also happens to be a number-one pain in my ass. Ros, this is Anastasia, my girlfriend."

Ana giggled. Ros was exactly as she'd imagined based on Christian's stories. _A ballbuster who doesn't put up with my man's shit._ "Hello Ros. It's nice to finally meet you. Christian has told me a lot about you."

The stout middle-age woman wagged her finger at her boss. "I don't even want to know what he said. You don't need me quitting on you Grey, especially now that you've been spending all that extra time at home with a certain someone."

Ros raised a suggestive brow at Ana, who gave her a shy smile. "He's said nothing but good things," Ana rushed to reassure her.

"Well, he's done nothing but harp about how wonderful you are my dear. Hell, I thought he'd lay out rose petals for your visit today. Not that I'm complaining. Whatever you're doing, keep it up. Christian hasn't been this agreeable in, well, ever! The whole company is grateful for your intervention," she said, letting out a deep-throated laugh.

"That's quite enough Ros," Christian cleared his throat, a tinge of pink staining his cheeks. "Don't you have work to do?"

"Apparently I do," she chuckled, throwing Ana a devious grin. "Enjoy your afternoon you two."

"She's just as I pictured her," Ana whispered.

"She's lucky I rely on her so much. No one else is permitted to speak to me that way." He gave Ana a peck on the lips. "No one but you of course."

"I'd hardly call you a whipped man," she flirted.

"Hmph. I don't think any woman ever says that out loud to her man. Doesn't mean it's not true."

"Poor baby," Ana pouted, feigning sympathy.

Christian was about to smack her ass again when he saw Andrea out of the corner of his eye.

"Ah Miss Parker. There you are. Let me introduce you to Anastasia Steele."

"Miss Steele, it's a pleasure to make your acquaintance," the neatly dressed woman said, having been thoroughly informed of her boss's girlfriend, through flower shop requests and strict instructions that her calls be patched through immediately.

"Nice to meet you too Miss Parker. Thank you for your assistance earlier."

"Of course. Can I get you anything to drink?"

"Did you want something baby?" Christian asked. Andrea hid her surprise at her boss's uncharacteristic term of endearment.

"No I'm fine, thank you," Ana smiled graciously.

"OK then. Come, there are a few other executives I'd like you to meet."

Christian may have joked about being a "whipped man," but he held court with his employees. Ana was impressed by the respect he commandeered — and the fear he had instilled. It was an incredible turn-on to see her man in action.

After a barrage of speedy introductions, Ana found herself in Christian's vast, modern office overlooking the city.

"Are those the paintings I liked at that art gallery we went to in Napa?" she asked, referring to the impressionist landscape of a pastoral farm along with two still lifes of ripened fruits that hung on the wall opposite his large desk.

Christian shrugged. "You said I needed some color at Escala. Since I put the other two paintings we bought in Napa in the penthouse, I put these three in here."

"That's so sweet," she gave him a toothy grin. Christian approached her from her behind and led her to his desk, rubbing her shoulders.

"Do you like the view?"

"Of course. I can just picture you sitting here in your element, watching over the rest of us plebeians while you're up here in the clouds — the master of your domain."

 _Actually I can — and it's sexy as hell. So are those forearms of his. Does he always walk around with his sleeves rolled up like that?_

Ana turned around, a wicked gleam in her eye. Before Christian knew what was happening, she launched herself at him, flinging her arms around his neck as her tongue invaded his mouth. He was taken aback but reciprocated in a split-second, crushing her chest to his as their kiss deepened, their passion from earlier instantly reignited.

They stumbled back into Christian's chair, Ana straddling him. She groaned as his mouth devoured hers, their tongues battling for supremacy.

Breathless, Christian reared back to paw at the buttons on her blouse, tearing it open and lowering the cup of her bra to expose one perfect breast. He kissed the creamy globe before latching onto the nipple, sucking and worming the delicate tip with his tongue and teeth.

Ana grabbed the back of his head, urging him to continue. She began grinding her core against Christian's raging erection, the friction driving him into a primal frenzy.

"Oh God Ana, I need to fuck you, now," he panted, planting a sloppy line of kisses along her chest and collarbone. "What do you want baby? Tell me and I'll do it," he whispered in her ear before nibbling on the lobe.

"Desk," was all she could croak out.

"Yes," he breathed, lifting her off of him and sweeping the smattering of paper and pens to the floor. He flipped Ana around and bent her over the edge, bunching up her skirt to reveal a black lace thong.

"Jesus Ana, you're trying to kill me," he gasped, caressing the soft, supple flesh before peeling down her panties. He leaned down to reverentially kiss each cheek, reaching one hand around to stimulate her clit.

"Oh God Christian. You're trying to kill _me_! Please, I can't wait," she pleaded, her voice raw and desperate.

To her relief she heard the distinct clatter of his belt buckle, his movements as hurried and impatient as hers. Eyes blazing at the sight of Ana hunched over his desk, Christian kicked her legs further apart and draped his body over hers. Fisting himself with one hand, he used the other to play with the bundle of nerves that sent jolts of electricity to Ana's toes.

Christian eagerly positioned himself at her entrance, his erection borderline painful, and nuzzled her neck.

"Do you want me to fuck you while you're sprawled out on my desk for me baby?" He sounded like the devil incarnate as his hot breath tickled her ear.

"Yes," she moaned, her voice strangled with need. "Please."

"Your wish is my command baby." Not wasting another second, he drove into her, her wetness easing the way. "Shit Ana," he hissed. "You feel so good."

He stilled, trying to fill his lungs with air as he savored the feel of her tight, welcoming walls. She whimpered at the sensation of being filled to the brim, clamping her muscles around his enormous girth.

"Holy fuck Ana," he groaned, his head falling on her shoulder. "I need you so much."

"I … need you Christian…" she trailed off, struggling to get the words out. The contrast of her bare breasts pressed against the hard, cold surface of his desk and his warm length inside her had her on sensory overload. "I need you to move. Please."

Obliging her, Christian set a languid pace. He glanced down to lewdly watch his erection slide in and out of her slick tunnel, her arousal coating him. She arched her back, pushing back against every stroke, the sound of their slamming bodies bouncing off the walls.

"Is this what you want baby?" he said huskily, grabbing the nape of her neck. "My cock inside you? Where it belongs. Filling every inch of you?"

"Yes," she keened, writhing in ecstasy. "Take me Christian. Take all of me."

He did just that, ramming into her and burying himself to the hilt. The relentless rhythm of his thrusts knocked over the few picture frames on his desk. Ana idly noticed that both photos were of them cuddling together on his boat.

 _I'm pretty sure he made Mac take those photos just to force him to see us all lovey-dovey with each other._

Thoughts of Mac quickly went out the window when Christian reached out around to pinch her sensitized nipple. He rolled it around in his adroit fingers before snaking his hand down to toy with her swollen clit.

His fingers massaged her in perfect harmony with his powerful thrusts. Ripples of pleasure radiated from her core and had her on the verge of tears. Ana groped for the edge of the desk — anything to hang onto as he hammered his cock into her, hitting every nerve ending.

"You look so fucking sexy Ana, laid out on my desk, just for me," he grunted, biting down on her neck.

"Yes. Only for you Christian. Ever."

Her affirmation ignited every cell in his body. Christian roughly hooked one arm under Ana's shoulder for leverage while the other grabbed her hip to hold her in place as he pounded into her, his pace brutal and unforgiving.

His entire chest was pressed against her back, swallowing her tiny frame like a security blanket — a symbol of his protectiveness and possessiveness. Ana felt him throbbing and pulsing inside of her, growing impossibly larger. Meanwhile, Christian felt her insides begin to quiver and quickly moved to entwine his fingers with hers.

"Oh Ana, I love you so much," he gasped, his face so close to hers that beads of sweat dripped down on her cheek. "Come for me baby. Come all over my cock. I want to feel you."

The muscles in Ana's belly clenched as her climax ripped through her, the spasms triggering Christian's own violent release. His let out a deafening roar as he unraveled in unadulterated pleasure, filling her with spurts of thick, white heat before collapsing onto her drenched back.

"Holy fuck Ana," he breathed, prostrate and replete. "What you do to me."

She hummed incoherently, her mind wandering. It wasn't the only time Christian had blurted out "I love you" while they were in the throes of passion. After that first time, he told her that he didn't expect her to say it back. He simply wasn't going to hide his feelings any longer.

Ana was grateful for the reprieve. _He's been so wonderful about not pressuring me. I do feel the same way, but I'm so scared that once I say the words out loud, I'll somehow jinx us. It's stupid, I know. I'll at least address it at our appointment with Flynn today so he knows where I'm coming from, since he's been so honest and understanding with me._

After laying there comatose for several minutes, Christian kissed Ana's temple and helped her to her feet, buttoning her blouse before fixing his own outfit.

"Well Miss Steele, that was a very pleasant surprise," he said, re-energized as he gathered up his papers from the floor. "I think we'll have to schedule a lot more visits to the office from here on out. We have plenty more surfaces to cover." He bent down to whisper in her ear. "I want to picture your naked, sweaty body every time I work."

She let out an innocent school-girl giggle that belied the very naughty deed she had just done on one of those surfaces.

"Speaking of work," she cleared her throat, trying to regain some ladylike dignity. "Let's not forget why I came here."

"Ah yes, the contract. Have a seat Miss Steele," he smiled, placating her. He rummaged through his top drawer before whipping out a small stack of documents.

"Everything you requested has been added. I agree to all your points but I have a few addendums of my own," he said, handing her a ballpoint pen as she sat across from him before taking his chair. He was now recovered from his sex-induced stupor and in full-on negotiation mode. "First, I abolished any remaining references to you as a submissive or me as your Dominant and relabeled us as boyfriend and girlfriend."

"That sounds so high school," she giggled.

"I strive for accuracy Miss Steele. Second, I eliminated all limits with regards to you touching me and all punishments, although I noted that previously agreed-upon kink in the form of light spanking, loose bondage and certain toys listed below were permissible."

"Sounds good." Ana blushed, while Christian beamed. _And we're going try out some of those toys later tonight._ He adjusted his pants before continuing.

"Third, I changed the clause about spending the night together to read that we shall automatically do so unless there is a 'compelling personal reason or scheduling conflict for us to be apart.' Instead of simply stating 'as our schedules allow,' this new wording clarifies that it is assumed you will be spending the night with me, even when you have schoolwork or class in the morning."

Ana nodded. The clause was redundant. _We pretty much spend seven nights a week together anyway and he's already set up a home office for me._

"Third, moving ahead, as you start the new school year, I'd like you to coordinate with me on your classroom schedule as well as your work schedule at Clayton's."

Ana arched her brow.

"Just to ensure that our schedules are in sync, not to dictate the terms of your schedule."

"OK," she flashed him a wry smile.

"Fourth, as promised, I will not interfere in your internship search but you will keep me abreast of any and all job applications and interviews and consult with me prior to accepting a position. I also reserve the right to run background checks on your superiors and any associates with whom you will be closely working."

"Agreed — reluctantly — but agreed," she conceded. _At least I got him to stop pestering me to work at GEH and to abandon the ridiculous notion of buying up law firms around town._

"Good. Lastly, we need to discuss the press," he said, growing somber. "I've kept the leaks to a minimum but word about us will inevitably trickle out. I've already prepared a statement with my PR department that I'll release with your permission that basically says, 'We are in a relationship and do not comment on our private lives' — the standard line I've used for years."

Ana cautiously nodded. "What about my background? Will they start digging into it?"

"I've pulled every connection and favor I have to ensure that your adoption records are sealed shut. There's only the bare minimum about your mother passing away from an undisclosed illness. The hospital records were somehow either expunged or lost," he said darkly. "Your secrets are safe with me Ana."

"Thank you," she whispered, not wanting to know how those records conveniently disappeared.

"Now that that's settled and you're amenable to these terms Miss Steele, I believe it's time to sign so we can grab some lunch," he said, switching to a lighter tone.

Ana pored over the document one last time, twirling the pen between her fingers. It was so different from any other contract she had signed.

 _Those contracts were all safety nets to protect me and my body from abuse. Even with Morton, I held onto the contract as some sort of security blanket, as if it somehow made me less of a victim. But that couldn't be any further from what Christian and I have. So do I really need this piece of paper to protect me from the man who'd lay down his life for me? Why have I been so intent on doing this?_

A shadow passed over her face. _Because deep down I'm terrified of losing Christian and I think that a contract will somehow tether him to me. That's really what all this has been about — insecurity._ She looked up and was met with a pair of anxious grey eyes. _But we're bound together by so much more than a piece of paper._

"I don't want to sign this Christian."

"What? Why not?" he asked, alarm seeping into his voice. "Ana, if you don't like something we can change it. It's not written in stone. Please don't start overreacting about the press statement. I will do everything in my power to keep them from dredging up your past — and I am a very powerful man. You have to trust me. I'll protect you..."

"I know you will," she pre-empted him. "That's exactly why I don't need to sign this." She pushed the pieces of paper back toward him. "I don't need a contract to protect myself from you. I trust you with my life. And I don't need this to define the parameters of our relationship. What we share stands on its own — and binds us together more than a piece of paper ever could."

Christian exhaled in relief and ran over to her, hauling her up into his arms.

"Oh baby, I love you," he unabashedly declared. He cradled her face, brushing his lips against hers before slipping his tongue inside.

Eventually, they both pulled back from their impassioned embrace. "Come, let's get lunch and then I'm all yours for the afternoon before we meet with Flynn," he said, kissing the tip of her nose.

"What about work?"

"Nope. I'm playing hooky. Like I said, I'm all yours baby." He gave her a dazzling smile.

"Good," she cheered. "So am I."


	27. Chapter 27

_**AUTHOR'S NOTE: Well, we're nearing the end! Sorry for the delay (I at least try to leave my stories at a good place when I take long breaks from them). This is the second-to-last chapter, so there's only one more after this! Like I said in the beginning, I don't want to drag this story out like I did with Sacrifice, so I'm going to wrap it up after this. I'm also finishing up Sacrifice – finally!**_

 _ **Sometimes, you just run out of ideas and I think both stories have simply run their course. So on that note, I'll be retiring from FanFiction, at least for a while. It's been phenomenal getting everyone's reviews and personal words of support. Thank you so much — it has really inspired me to keep going and finish these stories! Hope everyone has a happy Thanksgiving :)**_

Christian put his hand on Ana's jittery knee. Once it stopped bouncing, he laced his fingers with hers as they sat on the long, beige-and-maroon-striped couch facing Dr. Flynn. The carefree mood from earlier had dissipated and was replaced by the usual tension Ana felt at the prospect of baring her soul to a shrink.

"It'll be OK baby," he whispered, rubbing her knuckles with his thumb.

"I know this isn't your favorite place to be Ana," Flynn observed.

Ana snorted. _No shit Sherlock!_

"Sorry. It's no secret I hate coming to therapy. It ain't pretty excavating all the shit I've tried to bury for years," she said, her posture rigid.

"Do you ever regret coming here?" Flynn asked, mildly concerned.

"No I don't," she confessed. "I have to mentally drag myself kicking and screaming here most days, but after each session, I walk out more self-aware, having gained some kernel of truth that never really dawned on me before."

"Good," Flynn smiled, tapping on his notepad. "I'm glad to hear I'm earning my keep."

"And then some," Christian muttered, prompting a nudge from Ana to his ribs.

"On that note, I hear you've come to a decision about the revised contract."

"Yes. I don't want it." Ana gazed at Christian. "We don't need it."

Christian answered her with an ear-to-ear grin.

"I'm thrilled for you both. Do you want to discuss how you came to that conclusion?"

"It just struck me as pointless I suppose," Ana shrugged. "Before, they were an insurance policy, to protect myself from harm, but that's obviously not an issue with Christian."

"I'd never hurt you baby." He stroked her delicate jawline.

"I know," she smiled. "But with you, it became an insurance policy against losing you. In a bizarre way I thought it tied you to me — like you wouldn't leave me if we had this legal contract binding us, even though deep down I knew how silly that was."

"It's only silly because I'd never leave you regardless," he consoled her, leaning down to plant a kiss on her hair.

"It's taken a while for that to sink in — for any of this to sink in. Everything is so different. I feel like I'm starting my life over in a strange way. BDSM and contracts are all I've ever known. It's both exhilarating and terrifying to let them go."

"Ana, Christian, I know this is a difficult topic to discuss," Flynn said. "If you'd rather not talk about it, that's perfectly fine, although I've encouraged Anastasia to explore the factors that shaped her understanding of BDSM in order for her to come to terms with her past and move forward with her future."

"I want Ana to be honest. I need her to be," Christian said. "So we can have that future — together, as a couple."

"Me too."

"Good. In that case, while we're on the subject on contracts, let's start there since we've spent a good deal of time discussing them. Ana, do you want to explain to Christian why they were so important to you?" Flynn asked.

Ana inhaled and closed her eyes before refocusing them on the two men patiently watching her. "In a perverse sense, I felt like the contracts gave me power, but in truth, they robbed me of it. They turned me into someone else's property. They reduced me as a human being to a piece of paper. This notion that I as the submissive had any power was always a grand illusion. I was nothing more than a glorified sex slave. My Doms could beat me as long as it was within my 'defined limits,' but they still beat me for their pleasure. One even 'rented' me out to another Dom, like I was a piece of furniture." She snorted derisively, shaking her head before continuing her cathartic soliloquy.

"And I let them because I was weak and twisted myself," she quietly revealed, head bowed in shame. "It was sick because I was sick. I did it because I was desperate for some form of human connection, even if it was painful and uncaring. I harbored resentment toward the men who used me, but mostly it was directed at myself for _allowing_ them to use me, because I assumed it was the only way for me to ever have any kind of relationship. I hated them but I hated myself so much more."

Christian's face contorted in pain as he grit his teeth together. She quickly scooted closer to him, squeezing his hand.

"This is why I didn't want to dredge this crap up. The last thing I want to ever do is insult or offend you Christian. You're not like them," she stressed.

"But you saw me in that light at first. You saw me as a man who had reduced you to a slave," he ground out, his voice strangled with regret. "Which is what I did I suppose." He cringed, recalling how he made Ana kneel on the floor like a dog.

"Christian, Ana, I think it's important that we disentangle the general concept of BDSM from Ana's specific, negative associations with the lifestyle," Flynn interjected as both of his patients squirmed in discomfort. "Remember, you both engaged in a safe, consensual practice. At the end of the day, however, Ana's prior experiences with BDSM warped her views of it and, more importantly, of her own self-worth. As for you Christian, you discovered that you wanted more than what the lifestyle had to offer."

"I did Ana," he vowed, gripping her hand tightly. "But I am so sorry that I treated you like any other sub at first. You have no idea how deeply I regret my actions. Please understand, the lifestyle is all I ever knew too. It's all I ever chose to know."

"No Christian, please don't apologize. We both entered this with our eyes wide open and I don't regret our initial arrangement, because we would never have met otherwise," she pointed out. "Like John said, we were two consenting adults doing what we both wanted. You assumed I was fine with the lifestyle. You had no way of knowing what was going on inside my head or how fucked up my past was, nor was that your responsibility."

Christian scrubbed has face several times before looking back at Ana.

"Still, I should've known. I hate that you saw me like _them_ ," he repeated, his face twisting in revulsion.

"Don't ever compare yourself to them. You know I hate it when you do that. Yes, initially I saw you as just another Dom," she reluctantly admitted. "But remember, I also didn't have this visceral reaction to being a submissive that I do now. I always suppressed my bitterness about it. At any rate, I viewed our interactions as satisfying but otherwise sterile. I'm sorry if that sounds harsh, but John encouraged me to be honest."

Christian nodded, giving her hand a reassuring squeeze.

"Regardless, any negative connotations I might've had about you as a Dom quickly vanished once I saw how caring and attentive you were. In fact, anything I felt was replaced by confusion."

"Why is that Ana?" Flynn probed.

"I didn't understand why Christian was going out of his way to get close to me beyond the confines of our contract."

"Because I cared about you Ana, as a person," he said emphatically. "Because I fell for you, hard and fast."

"I know, but then my confusion morphed into this theory that I had become a challenge for you, the CEO, to fix — a wounded animal to rehabilitate."

"Oh Ana," he sighed, panged. "I didn't see someone who needed saving. I saw an amazing girl I wanted in my life — not just physically."

Ana palmed the course stubble along Christian's jaw. "I see that now," she said sweetly. "I realize now that you love me for me."

He leaned down to give her a feather-light kiss on the lips, his hand skimming the small of her back.

"I'm still trying to accept it though. All I've ever known is submission and men wanting to use me for my body. Nobody ever cared about my mind before. That was mine and mine alone, so sharing it is a novel concept for me. So is getting out of the mindset of a submissive."

"Do you want to expound on what you've learned in therapy in regards to BDSM?" Flynn asked.

Ana squared her shoulders and took a deep, calming breath.

"Rationally, I understand that people who engage in BDSM can have a respectful, mutually beneficial relationship. But for me it came from an unhealthy place. I was introduced to it by," she swallowed, her bottom lip quivering, "a child molester. I always knew Morton took advantage of me, but I couldn't admit it — because if I did, then I'd be his victim. But if I told myself that it was my choice — that I agreed to be his submissive of my own volition to give myself a better life — then at least I could retain a modicum of dignity."

Christian instantly wrapped his arm around Ana's trembling body, fitting her snugly into his side.

"I know baby," he whispered into her hair, his own voice shaky. "I know exactly what that's like — the need to feel empowered because your power has been stripped from you. No one ever wants to be the victim."

"Many people have a natural aversion to the word 'victim,'" Flynn observed, treading carefully. "But there is nothing intrinsically wrong or taboo about the word. Victims often victimize themselves twice by assuming the burden of blame. But I think the focus needs to shift to the aggressor. You've directed so much guilt onto yourselves, when the blame lies with the two people who initiated children into a lifestyle that they were too young to comprehend. Ostensibly, they did it to 'help' you, when in truth they were simply taking advantage of your misfortunes to serve their own selfish, depraved interests. We can sit here and spend years analyzing why you did what you did, the shame you felt because you enjoyed certain aspects of what happened, the repercussions it had on your development, etc. But at the end of the day, it comes down to a basic fact that you both must acknowledge: The fault lies with Steven and Elena, not with you."

Christian hugged Ana tighter to him in silence as they both struggled to digest Flynn's words. They could feel the wild beating of each other's hearts as they held each other, as if clinging to a life raft to ride out a violent storm.

"Forgive yourselves," Flynn said gently. "But if you insist on labeling yourselves, then please, at least for my own sake, toss out the word 'victim' from your vocabulary and replace it with 'survivor.'"

"It's hard John," Ana confessed, her voice muffled as she hid her face in Christian's chest. "It's hard for people who don't see their own worth to praise themselves."

Christian tenderly cradled Ana's cheeks, tilting her head toward him. "It's not empty praise. It's the truth Ana. You are a survivor."

"We both are," she quietly corrected him. He kissed her on the lips, Flynn's presence long since forgotten.

She suddenly pulled away, blinking back the tears stinging her eyes.

"Before we move forward though, I need to lay it all out on the line." Christian's heart began pounding against his sternum with the force of a sledgehammer. "I don't equate BDSM with a healthy relationship. I like aspects of it, but the fundamentals — relinquishing control of your mind and body to someone, being physically beaten for breaking arbitrary rules, being at someone else's beckon call to do their sexual bidding, suppressing your own wishes and desires to be a subservient little girl — are not for me any more. I want to learn to live my life without that crap, on my own terms. But I don't know if you can live without it Christian, and I won't judge you one iota if you can't. It's been an intrinsic part of you for years, and it wouldn't be fair for me to deprive you of that. If there's even a remote chance that you think you may need it in the future, then I have to be upfront and admit that I can't provide it for you."

Christian immediately cupped both of Ana's cheeks, eyes blazing with emotion.

"Ana, I love you. _You_ are my future," he fervently declared. "I could give a shit about floggers and all that nonsense. As long as I get to keep fucking you, I'll be a happy man."

"I, I, OK," she replied, flustered. "It's not that I want to completely give _everything_ up. I like submitting to you sexually. I like it when you're dominant in the bedroom." Her cheeks were bright red. "Because I know it comes from a place of love."

"It does," he affirmed, tucking a few strands of hair behind her ear. "I love you with all my heart."

Ana suddenly became visibly uncomfortable. Christian recognized the signs. She always became skittish when the big "L" came up. Unfazed, he continued to cradle her face, caressing her flushed cheeks with his thumbs.

"The words. I know it must hurt that I don't say them back," she whispered, embarrassed.

"Baby, I don't give a shit about the words," he said bluntly. "I've told you that before. As long as you're by my side and we're moving forward, that's all I care about. At the end of the day, they're just words."

"It's not that I don't feel them," she confessed, risking a shy glance at Christian, who was radiating joy. "It's just that I've gotten this weird superstition drilled into my head that if I say them out loud, something will go wrong. It always seems like things go to shit for me when I get my hopes up. I know that's a negative way of viewing life and John is helping me realize and work on it, but for now, it's like my security blanket. If I don't utter them out loud, things will stay perfect between us."

"Ana, you're a trip. You have about as many odd mental hang-ups and quirks as I do," Christian chuckled. "We're two of a kind. I admit it did bother me at first that you didn't repeat them, but I honestly don't even think about it now. I know how you feel about me. I pushed you too far, too fast when we first met and I almost lost you as a result. I won't make that same mistake again. As long as you continue to share your life with me, we'll take this at your own pace."

Ana gave him a grateful, toothy smile. "In a weird way, it's all semantics I suppose. Let's face it, I spend every night with you and I've dragged half my stuff over to your apartment. Perhaps," she paused, collecting her courage, "I could move the other half in and we just call a spade a spade and admit that we're living together."

Christian grinned like he had just won the lottery and Olympics combined. "Consider it a done deal Miss Steele," he said, planting a loud, victorious kiss on her lips.

"Good, good," Flynn said, delighted to see his patients so happy. "Your progress has been nothing short of remarkable. I'm so proud of you both. Switching gears a bit, before we end the session, I'd like to get an update on your medications Ana. Are you comfortable discussing that with Christian in the room?"

Christian tried his best to act nonchalant, though his anxiety was palpable.

She giggled. "Of course he can stay. He knows everything about me."

Wearing a triumphant grin, Christian scooted impossibly closer to Ana and wrapped his arm around her shoulder.

"I've been good. No bad reactions. I did experience some of the initial side effects you mentioned, mostly insomnia and a loss of appetite, but they're on the wane and it's been manageable."

"I bought lots of minestrone," Christian chimed in proudly.

Flynn smirked. "Excellent. And your mood overall?

"Even, which is a good thing. I feel stable — and in control of my mood, which is a victory in and of itself. Before, I never knew when the depression would strike. Some days it just hit me like thunder and I wouldn't have the energy or motivation to get out of bed and shower. I still managed to function, but I was a robot. Everything around me was lifeless, because I was devoid of life. But this new antidepressant you gave me didn't turn me into a happy-go-lucky cheerleader, which is what I feared. Instead, it just sort cut down on the lows and made my baseline mood a little higher. I still get sad, but it's not this extreme sadness that disables me, and even on those days, I'm now able to see the good around me. Does that make sense?"

"Perfect sense. Antidepressants are not a cure-all, but they can get you to a stable point where you're better able to deal with the issues plaguing you."

"I admit that I still get frustrated by my 'bad' days when I feel down for no particular reason. They feel like setbacks and once my mind goes into that rabbit hole, I start to feel like a failure."

"Ana, you put such an inordinate amount of pressure on yourself. Remember, life isn't linear. Everyone has setbacks, whether it's a long-distance runner or a drug addict. Don't dwell on them. The key is to push through them and move forward. That's all any of us can do."

"I know." She lifted Christian's hand to plant a kiss on his knuckles. "Throughout this journey, Christian hasn't faltered one bit in his support of me. I always look to him as a role model whenever I feel like I'm about to stumble."

"Oh baby, I'm not a role model," he said, dropping a tender kiss on her forehead. "I'm just a man who loves his girlfriend and wants to help her."

"You don't give yourself enough credit," Ana admonished him, reaching up to return his kiss. "You've been so phenomenal and patient throughout this journey. Not everyone would have stuck around."

"I'm not just 'everyone.' I'm the man who loves you, so I'm not going anywhere. Also remember, it's always easier to help other people confront their demons than to confront your own," Christian reflected. "Advice is easy to give. It's harder to take. Believe me, I've stumbled on my journey as well, but you've inspired me to face issues that I've also buried for years. We're on this road together."

They held hands and stared at each other, grinning like two lovesick teenagers.

Flynn clasped his hands together in satisfaction. "Terrific! And I think on that note, we can say goodnight. I'll see you both next week at your regularly scheduled times?"

"Sure," they both muttered distractedly, too lost in each other's eyes to bother with the man on the other side of the room trying to subtly shoo them out.

"Ahem," Flynn finally cleared his throat, giving them a wink. "I do have other patients."

"Oops sorry," they both laughed.


	28. Chapter 28

As they traipsed through the otherworldly forests of Oregon during their latest weekend getaway, Ana was mesmerized by the corpuscular rays of sunlight that streamed in through the gargantuan moss-covered tree stumps. Christian, meanwhile, was far more preoccupied watching Ana to make sure she didn't trip over the scattered branches and uneven terrain.

"You know Mia thinks you're going shopping with her for that fundraiser next Saturday?" Christian said, his hand hovering at the small of her back as he carefully guided her forward.

"Yeah, I don't know how I got roped into that one. All I said was, 'Have fun looking for a dress,' and somehow that got interpreted as, 'I'll help you find a dress,'" Ana laughed, lost in the lush greenery enveloping her.

"My sister speaks her own language. The credit card is her dictionary. Just a bring a book while she tries on every outfit in the store."

"That's OK. I've come to enjoy her company. I don't usually understand half the things she says about designers and celebrities, but her enthusiasm is contagious."

And it was. Over the last three months, Ana had increasingly spent time with Christian's family, who embraced the bright young woman with open arms. She, in turn, became more open to the idea of letting others in, overcoming her fears that they would eventually abandon her. Likewise, Christian was also gradually accepting the fact that Ana was not going to leave him. Neither, in fact, had left the other's side since the night of the gala when Christian confessed his love to Ana. They were inseparable and didn't want it any other way.

A stream gently burbled in the distance as Christian sat down on a log overlooking a clearing through the trees that offered a camera-worthy view of the setting sun. He pulled Ana onto his lap, wrapping his arms around her stomach and resting his head on her shoulder as she marveled at the idyllic landscape.

"This is so freaking amazing," she whispered in awe. "I feel like I'm in 'Lord of the Rings' or something."

"I'm glad you like it baby," he chuckled. "The travel agent said it was one of the most picturesque sights in the entire Northwest."

She hummed contentedly, leaning her head against his broad chest.

After 20 minutes of companionable silence, Christian reluctantly interrupted Ana's reverie.

"Sorry baby, the sun's going down and we still have a 20-minute hike back to the resort. I don't want you stumbling around in the dark."

Ana rolled her eyes. "I'm sure my overprotective boyfriend would catch me."

Christian helped Ana to her feet and gave her butt a light smack. "Yes he would. And don't roll your eyes," he smirked. "Besides, we've got all day tomorrow to do more hiking or whatever you want."

Ana suddenly turned to face Christian, caressing his cheek with her palm.

"Thank you for this trip Christian. It was so thoughtful. I love it."

He leaned down to reverentially kiss her lips. "And I love you."

"I love you too," she breathed, her admission stunning them both. Ana froze but after a moment she smiled. _About time Steele — and wow, look at that, the world didn't end!_

She expected to see elation on Christian's face but was instead met with an unreadable expression.

"Ana, I think it is time for a new contract," he blurted out, taking her by surprise.

She felt her heart dissolve into tiny pieces, all of her renewed hopes and dreams scattering in the wind like ashes and dust _. Oh God, nothing's changed. He wants another contract. I thought I was done with all this shit but now it looks like I'll never escape it_. _I knew I never should have opened my big mouth! I've ruined everything!_

Ana was jolted out of her morbid reverie when Christian got down on one knee.

"Don't worry baby," he reassured her. "It's nothing like that. I've been keeping this handy for whenever I felt you were ready to see it. It hasn't been easy secretly carrying this sucker around for months. Took you long enough," he winked before pulling out a velvet box from his back pocket to reveal a sparkling diamond ring inside.

She blinked, her mouth slack.

"Marry me Anastasia. Be mine forever. Make me the happiest man on earth and let me make you the happiest woman for the rest of your life. And even if there are days when we're unhappy, we'll get through those as well — together, side by side. Let our marriage certificate be the very last contract we ever sign between us."

Ana was blind-sighted by the dazzling ring, but all she could really see was her future with the man on bended knee in front of her. She envisioned herself growing old with him, surrounded by children and grandkids as they hosted cozy dinners at home and exotic vacations abroad. She pictured both of them trying to cook and failing miserably at it, watching TV on rainy nights and making love after a hard day at work.

But in that instant, her vision was clouded with another stark image: Christian comforting her during one of her inevitable bouts of depression. She saw herself on those bleak days when she would cry for no reason or refuse to see the light of day — weighed down by the inadequacy of being married to a brilliant billionaire; the insidious anxiety that liked to remind her she was never quite good enough; and the omnipresent pain of her past. She imagined how unfair it would be to subject a man like Christian to a lifetime of mental demons that had grown quiet in recent months but whose shadow would always reside deep within her.

It was times like these that her old nemesis of self-doubt reared its head, but thanks to Christian and Flynn's patient guidance, she was learning to silence the beast and put it back in its place — firmly in her past.

She gazed into Christian's grey eyes as they anxiously scrutinized her face.

 _He wants this. I want this. He'll be there for me during the rough times, just like I'll be there for him. He deserves to be happy — and so do I._

Ana wordlessly nodded, tears rolling down her cheeks. "Thank Christ," Christian expelled his breath. He carefully slipped the diamond-encrusted platinum band over her finger, relief pouring off of him. Once he was sure the fit was secure, he sprung to his feet and captured her lips in a fierce kiss that spoke of his unfailing devotion and commitment.

After what seemed like an eternity, Ana pulled away from their passion-filled embrace, breathless and bowled over by the turn her life had taken not only in the past few minutes, but also in the last few months.

A random thought struck her as the sun's rays began to bleed into the horizon. Ever since she was a little girl, Ana had mindlessly gazed at sunsets — whether in a flea-infested apartment building, the back of a trailer park or through the grimy windows of the orphanage. But until Christian, she had never truly _seen_ them. Like the lawyer that she was, she studied the palette of oranges, reds and yellows but only as an observer. The colors didn't register. For years, Ana was a passerby in her own life — much like the sunsets she watched but whose beauty eluded her. It took a remarkable man who upended her monochrome existence for her to finally become a participant in life, absorbing and appreciating the colors in it.

Ana lovingly stroked the course stubble of Christian's jawline. "I love you Mr. Grey."

His smile was brighter than all the sunsets she'd ever seen before. "And I love you Mrs. Grey. Always."

THE TWO MOST SATISFYING YET SADDEST WORDS FOR ANY WRITER:

THE END :)


	29. Chapter 29

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: I was SO incredibly conflicted about continuing this story because I felt it ended on the perfect note, but I couldn't get this idea out of my head and I've been writing it on and off for a few months now, so just figured what the hell. I'm closing my eyes and throwing it out there.**

 **Submission and Strength got so many wonderful reviews and I'm really afraid of ruining it by doing this continuation of their story, so I'd love to hear from the people about what they think of this new part. If people aren't crazy about it, then I'll probably make it into a separate story, but the reason I wanted to continue it is because this Ana is the same Ana from Submission and Strength — who battles depression, anxiety and other inner demons, so her self-esteem issues are very important to the plot.**

 **I hope people don't hate it too much. It's a very dark, total roller-coaster ride of ANGST about their married life but still has lots of love, some humor, HEA and no cheating (though be warned, there is the temptation of it).**

 **SUMMARY: It's 20 years later. Christian and Ana are married (and both in their 40s) and have had a great life together but they've also had their fair share of tragedy. An incident tests their marriage and resurrects Ana's past insecurities stemming from medical problems she experienced 12 years earlier that left her unable to have children.**

 **SPOILER'S AHEAD: Anyone who knows my work knows I'm not a fan of the whole "they had kids and lived happily ever after" stuff. I like to see how real life works out in the future. I also frequently explore depression and infertility, two issues that are close to me, so be aware that those are big themes in case they are sensitive triggers for anyone. This chapter takes place at Flynn's retirement party. It's mostly from his perspective and it sets up the backstory of what happened to Christian and Ana. Basically, 8 years into their marriage, Ana had a medical emergency that left her unable to have kids. She became severely depressed and left Christian, thinking he deserved better. They get back together, adopt two girls and have been happily together ever since. Then an incident brings up bad memories for Ana. Flashbacks show what happened 12 years earlier when Ana had her medical problems. Otherwise everything else in the story takes place in the present — i.e. 20 years into their marriage.**

John Flynn surveyed the room filled with family, friends and quite a few of his patients. He chuckled to himself.

 _They're all sizing each other up, no doubt wondering who was a patient of mine and who wasn't._

Approaching the age of 60, the bespectacled, still-youthful-looking psychiatrist decided to retire early and spend time with his beloved wife Rhiann now that their two sons were in college and she was mostly home alone, having retired from her engineering firm last year.

His sharp brown eyes instinctively spotted the couple who helped make his early retirement financially feasible.

Christian was mindlessly twirling Anastasia's hair as she grinned and sipped on her wine in the corner, both of them wrapped up in their own conversational bubble, with little appetite for engaging in mindless chitchat with the other partygoers.

Flynn smiled inwardly.

 _Thank God they made it. I was afraid they wouldn't. Hell, I was terrified of a fate much worse than divorce._

Flynn cringed at the recollection of that dark time 12 years ago.

 _They didn't even realize they wanted a baby until those two sudden miscarriages interrupted their idyllic life. She was constantly being hounded by the media about imaginary baby bumps, when she was going to produce a "Grey" heir and idiotic speculation that he was leaving her. They were finally beginning to pick up the pieces and attempt IVF when out of the blue, she develops a completely random intestinal blockage and massive infection that forced the doctors to not only remove a section of her intestine but her uterus as well. Jesus, imagine waking up after passing out at work only to find out you just had a hysterectomy and that you can never have kids. Christian was just grateful his wife was alive. But Ana was catatonic. She fought so bravely to keep her depression at bay during those miscarriages. But the hysterectomy robbed what was left of her fragile spirit._

Flynn took a large gulp of his wine and closed his eyes, recalling the memories of his close friends drowning in despair.

 _I can't believe she actually left him. She was absolutely convinced that Christian was better off without her. That she was a burden instead of his reason for living. But in a sense, she died the day she found out children were no longer an option for them. Every commercial, every reference to children, every announcement that a friend was pregnant served as a reminder of her diagnosis. All those months we watched her slowly fading away, robotically going through the motions to appease Christian, but underneath she was paralyzed by grief. It clung to her like a blanket, smothering her, until she finally came to the conclusion that she wanted to give her husband a chance at a "normal" life. He was in hysterics. No matter how many times he pleaded with her that they could always adopt or live without children, she truly believed he would be better off and that she was doing the selfless thing. I saw how it destroyed both of them, but she was adamant that she loved him too much to deny him the experience of creating his own family one day. Her mind had turned on her so viciously that she saw herself as a selfish monster if she stayed and subjected him to her pain. She was convinced that even though he would suffer after the initial breakup, he would eventually get over her and find the happiness he deserved. She couldn't be any more wrong, but the haze of depression literally blinded her._

Flynn shook his head sadly.

 _So much tragedy. They both went to hell and back. I have never seen a patient who hated themselves as much as Ana did — nor have I ever been as scared for a patient's life. We both knew suicide was a distinct possibility. And if she had ended her life, it would have meant the end of Christian's as well. Two lives hung in the balance — two lives I deeply cared about._

 ******FLASHBACK – 12 Years Earlier******

"I don't fucking know what to do John," his distraught patient bellowed as he paced the floor, hands frantically yanking at his hair. "She's slipping away right in front of me. I'll die! I swear to God. I'll fucking die if I lose her!"

"Christian, please sit down and take a deep breath," Flynn calmly counseled, although inwardly he was as panicked as his patient.

Christian still cut an intimidating figure, but he had lost at least 10 pounds and looked gaunt and exhausted, large bags marring his bloodshot eyes. The last three weeks had taken such a toll on him that he was finally forced to take a leave of absence from work.

Emotionally spent, his body heaved onto the couch, head tumbling into his hands.

"I miss her so much. This weight on my chest is crushing me. I feel like I can't breathe," he said, sobs wracking his large frame. "No matter what I do, I can't reach her. Her sadness is literally killing me — and her! You have to help her John! You have to save her!"

"Christian, I know this is devastating for both of you, but we need to take a step back and get some perspective." Flynn shot his hand up to cut off Christian's protest.

"She has agreed to live directly underneath you in the apartment you rented for her at Escala, so she's not far away. And two days ago, she finally agreed to come back in and talk with me. We know that she's likely stopped taking her medications, so that will be the first step we'll address. She has also agreed not to pursue a formal separation until she tackles her depression and is capable of making that type of life-altering decision more clearly. That means she acknowledges that what she's struggling with goes far beyond grief. I know it doesn't seem like it, but that's progress. Her actions suggest that she wants to get better. I can't guarantee you what the outcome will be — that is up to her — but at least she has agreed to hold off on making any major decisions until she is of sound mind and body. Remember, she had barely processed the two miscarriages before she went through a near-death experience and a partial hysterectomy that left her unable to conceive, not to mention all the hormonal imbalances that came with those medical ordeals and her long history of depression and self-harm. She's deeply traumatized and needs time to heal."

"I know that but … what if she doesn't get better John?" Christian croaked, voicing his biggest fear. "You say there's hope, but she feels _utterly_ hopeless. I see her. She's completely checked out. Given up. She barely eats. Between the intestinal surgery and lack of food, she's so weak that I'm afraid she'll collapse at any moment. And all she does every single damn day is cry, sleep or stare blankly out the window."

Flynn's ears perked up. "How do you know that? You said she's kept her distance from you these last few weeks."

Christian's red-rimmed eyes shot up, annoyed by his psychiatrist's uncanny powers of observation.

"I had cameras installed," he grumbled.

"Excuse me?"

"I put cameras in her apartment so I could monitor her, OK," he snapped, growing agitated.

"What? Christian, I don't think that's wise…"

"I don't give a shit," he angrily interrupted. "We both know she might harm herself. I'll be damned if I'm going to sit back and watch the woman I love more than life itself hurt herself. She's my wife and it's my job to protect her. She's not in the right frame of mind right now. The cameras stay. End of discussion." He stared straight ahead, his tone and posture unmoving. The CEO/Dom had made a comeback.

"How does this even work Christian? I mean, do you have your security people spying on her every move? What about when she sleeps, gets dressed, showers?"

"Give me some credit John," he scoffed. "You think I'd allow anyone else to see that? She's my wife for fuck's sake. They monitor her movements during the day when I can't. It's only Taylor and Sawyer, whom I trust implicitly. If she goes to do anything private or intimate, they notify me immediately. And I'm the only one who has access to her bedroom and bathroom."

Flynn's eyes grew round in disbelief. "And you watch her, constantly?"

Christian shrugged insolently. "What else would you have me do? I have to ensure that she doesn't physically harm herself."

"Christian, you're spying on your own wife for God's sake! That's a complete violation of her privacy," Flynn sputtered out, stunned. He knew Christian could be a full-fledged stalker, but this was on an entirely different level.

"Guess what John? I don't give a shit," he shouted. "It's either her privacy or her well-being. Her fucking life is on the line here! You and I both know she's a danger to herself right now and can't see straight. And don't sit here and BS me that you haven't considered having her committed given her history of severe depression and cutting."

Christian threw him a defiant glare while Flynn scrubbed his face. It was true. He was deeply concerned about Ana. Over the years, he had grown to consider both of them as not only his patients, but as friends. He didn't even know how to begin navigating the ethical boundaries he was trampling on by counseling both of them, but he also couldn't have their deaths on his conscience.

"Fine but promise me one thing Christian," Flynn sighed in panged resignation. "Once I talk with Ana and gauge her state of mind, if I determine that she's stable, the cameras go. Every one of them. I know you're concerned, but that's no excuse. There are limits to patient confidentiality and if you're doing something illegal, I'm well within my rights to act. Are we clear?"

Christian's cold stare penetrated him, sending shivers down his spine.

"Fine," he bit out, his gaze unwavering. Both men knew Christian had no intention of caving to Flynn's threat. Not when Ana's life and sanity were at stake. He could only hold out hope that his lost friends would somehow find their way back to each other.

 ******END FLASHBACK – PRESENT TIME******

At the moment, his friends had found their way to the spot where Flynn was himself lost reminiscing.

"Penny for your thoughts," Christian smiled, his arm casually draped around Ana's shoulder as they approached him.

"Yeah, I think it's our turn to analyze you and find out what you're thinking," Ana giggled, wagging a finger at him. Christian kissed her temple. "It's only fair after all," he agreed.

Flynn laughed. "Nice try you two. That's why I sit on the other side of the couch!"

"Not any more," Ana pointed out. "Are you happy to be retiring?"

"Nervous but happy," he confessed. "I hope the wife doesn't get bored of me, but yes I can't wait to start this new chapter of our lives together."

Christian tenderly gazed down at his own wife, a smile playing on his lips.

Flynn narrowed his eyes. "What about you two? Any plans to call it quits at work?"

Ana narrowed her eyes at Christian. "I don't think we're ready to give up our careers just yet — too type A for that — but we already both cut back on our hours when the girls came along. Even though they're busy teenagers now with little time for us, our schedules are still flexible so it works out," she replied.

Their two daughters — one adopted from Syria and the other from Seattle when they were both toddlers — came from such different backgrounds, yet today, they could not be any closer. Nayla was shy but smart and possessed an inner confidence and strength that never failed to astound her parents. Even at a young age, she began volunteering to help charities for war-torn refugees such as herself, embracing her roots with pride. Amber was the extrovert, bursting with exuberance and adventure, whether it was playing volleyball or trying her hand at rock-climbing. Her unfiltered nature sometimes grated on people's nerves, but her kindness and warmth always won them over. They complemented each other: Amber worshipped her older, wiser sister, while Nayla protected her younger, impulsive sibling.

"Yes but the girls are getting older baby," Christian pointed out. "You know what isn't too far away."

Ana winced. The thought of her two babies going off to college was a prospect she wasn't ready to face yet.

"There are advantages to an empty nest Ana," Flynn counseled. "I miss the kids and I'll miss aspects of the job, but I'm looking forward to spending more time with Rhiann."

"And less time with us," Christian quipped.

Flynn quirked his brow in playful admonishment. "I wouldn't quite put it that way. And I've hardly seen either you in the last few years."

"Well, we certainly hogged enough of your time in the beginning," Ana said with a tinge of sadness.

Flynn gently patted her shoulder. "I certainly wouldn't put it that way. I've relished working with my patients to help them overcome life's obstacles. It's been a joy to watch them persevere and enjoy the happiness they deserve."

Ana gave him a grateful smile, though an embarrassed pink flush swept her cheeks. Even after 12 years, the well of shame and regret that resided deep within her since her breakdown occasionally bubbled to the surface.

Christian sensed the change in her demeanor and quickly gave her shoulders an affectionate squeeze. She glanced up and saw the same look of reassuring love that greeted her all those years ago, even when she had put him through emotional hell. She remembered the day shortly after she had begun seeing Flynn again when Christian came over for dinner. It was the first time in over a month of unbridled agony that the fog began to clear and she recognized the love that shined in those piercing grey orbs.


	30. Chapter 30

******FLASHBACK – 12 Years Earlier******

Ana scrunched her face as she sat huddled on the couch, knees tucked beneath her. She kept retyping the website's address but it either stalled or redirected her somewhere else. She was only trying to access the recipe section of some gossip rag to make a simple dessert, but she suspected the site was blocked because it was peddling the latest "celebrity" news about their rumored split.

 _Celebrity? He deals with mergers and acquisitions and I offer legal counsel to women who lack marital rights in developing nations. How the fuck does that make us celebrities? That makes us boring as fuck. And would Christian really have the power to block websites just because they're spreading gossip about me?_

Ana rolled her eyes. _Get real girl. This is the man who practically shut down Instagram when all those weird accounts popped up after the press dug up dirt on my "poor, deprived, foster-child upbringing." They dubbed me "Little Orphan Annie"— the nice ones at least. I never knew there were so many different, imaginative ways to call someone was a gold digger._

Ana sighed, recalled her love-hate relationship with the internet.

 _I went from gold digger to afterthought when he worked with that hot, world-renowned Brazilian CEO — what was her name? Donna, Donatella, Delinda? Whatever. She was actually a nice lady, but then his online "fan club" created some fantasy world where they photoshopped her face over mine in old photos. They clipped me? Hipped me? No, that doesn't sound right. Shipping, that's it!_

Ana snorted, shaking her head.

 _Stalking is more like it. Good lord people have time on their hands when it comes to technology. Nothing brings out hate like the anonymity of the internet I suppose. The creepiness I could deal with, but the nastiness I got for being an average woman married to a hot guy just floored me. And then I get flak for not giving him kids?! I did get a ton of empathy, but how could some people attack me for not having children? They didn't even realize that I tried but failed! What did that one account call me? Barren bitch? At least that was catchier than "Bitch Who Refuses to Breed with Billionaire." Christian tried to smack everyone with lawsuits, but half of them were just 14-year-olds living in some sad digital dream world. I told him it was a waste of time, but I know he's never given up. It doesn't matter anyway. You can avoid going online. It's a lot harder to avoid going outdoors._

Ana stared despondently out the rain-splattered window, imagining the scrum of paparazzi camping outside Escala, waiting for a glimpse of the estranged couple.

 _Those paps are relentless. I love how people can "read" body language in those tabloid photos to psychoanalyze why this celebrity couple or that one is unhappy. Of course these people look unhappy — they have a shit ton of camera bulbs flashing in their faces! Who's going to look all lovey-dovey when they can't even walk down the street without being mauled?_

Ana curled her knees up, propping her chin on top of them as she stared blankly ahead.

 _Christian and I used to take those lovey-dovey strolls all the time. He was always one step ahead of those insatiable photographers. Shit, now I can't even remember the last time we stepped out in public together. My appointment with Flynn was the first time I left this damn apartment in weeks. Not that I'm eager to take a stroll around Seattle in a downpour anyway. I barely feel like showering most days, so actually maybe a walk in the rain would do me some good. Whatever. I'm pretty sure no one's pressed to see my ugly unwashed mug anyway, but it might be nice to leave this building every once in a while without an armada of bodyguards in tow._

Ana looked around the elegantly furnished living room, which opened to a state-of-the-art kitchen filled with all the latest appliances. She still hadn't figured out how to work half the gadgets.

 _Is it even possible to feel like a hostage in a $3 million apartment? Granite countertops and Egyptian cotton sheets don't exactly scream prison. Get a grip Ana. You're not some kind of hostage, except maybe to your own mind. That's the one thing you can't escape from — that, and your traitorous body. God, listen to me! Could I sound any more pathetic and dramatic? For goodness sake, you've worked with women who have been gang-raped and had their entire families blown up by war. What right do you even have to be wallowing in your own self-pity when people have been through so much worse than you?!_

Just then, the doorbell interrupted her maudlin reverie. Christian stood awkwardly on the other side, a large bag of food wedged under his arm. As she opened the door, he beamed at the sight of his wife. Even though she was pale and the sweats and T-shirt she wore hung from her frail body, he couldn't contain his enthusiasm. Not only had she been speaking with Flynn as promised, she had finally agreed to have a casual dinner with him.

"Hi," he said, wearing a broad grin.

"Hi," she said, rewarding him with her shy smile. His heart began to pound out of his chest.

Hers was beating just as wildly.

 _Oh God, I hope this wasn't a mistake. Maybe it's too soon? I don't want to lead him on or give him some false hope that I'm all better. I've tortured him enough these last few weeks._

She had tortured herself just as much, if not more. Ana closed her eyes, trying to drown out the unrelenting drumbeat of negative thoughts that plagued her mind day in and day out. Thoughts of what she did wrong. Of what could have been.

 _Maybe if I had taken better care of myself, the miscarriages never would have happened? What if I hadn't jogged during that heat wave the day before I found out I was pregnant? Or had that glass of wine? What if we had started IVF just a few months earlier? Maybe if I wasn't so consumed by that one damn case at work, I would've paid more attention to my symptoms before I had to be rushed to the ER._

No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't shut out the noise that played like a broken record in her mind, refusing to give her a moment's peace.

She shook her head.

 _Stop it Ana. Remember what Flynn said. Stop letting the what-ifs dictate your life. Take it step by step. Focus on Christian. Look at him. He's thrilled to be here. You're finally making him happy, and you made it absolutely clear that this was just dinner — no strings attached._

She blinked and suddenly realized her husband was still patiently standing at her doorway, watching her inner monologue play out.

"Sorry," she coughed nervously. "I zoned out. Come in. I've got the plates and glasses out."

"No problem," he smiled warmly, gliding over to the counter to unpack the meal he brought from their favorite Italian restaurant. "I got minestrone, salad, pasta Bolognese, meatballs, chicken parmesan, some veal, mushroom gnocchi and tiramisu for dessert."

"Jesus, did you leave the restaurant with any food? Or the city of Rome for that matter."

He chuckled. "Old World Francesca's will survive. We've funded that establishment enough over the years for them to be a nationwide chain by now."

"Maybe not a chain, but we've definitely put Francesca's two boys through college."

Ana winced. _Sending kids to college. Something else I can never give him._ She quickly refocused her attention on the food, gaping at the lavish feast sprawled out before her. "I don't know if I can eat all this Christian," she whispered hesitantly.

He stopped unpacking the food and turned to face her, resisting the urge to wrap his arms around her and never let go. "Don't worry. Just eat whatever you can. Please."

She gave him a sad smile, noticing he had lost weight as well. "OK. You too."

"I will. I promise."

They set the table in silence, stealing wary glances at one another before sitting down.

Christian ate his salad but carefully studied Ana from the corner of his eye as she took a few tentative sips of her soup.

"It's delicious, as always. Thank you," she said.

"You're very welcome," he smiled, relieved. "Thank you for accepting my invitation to dinner."

"You're welcome." She forced another spoonful in her mouth, inexplicably shy around the man to whom she had bared her soul over the last eight years.

 _Of course you have nothing to say Ana. You took away his chance to have a family, you pushed him away when he was trying to help you recover and then you tore his heart out and stomped all over it. What is there left to say?_

Christian saw Ana's lip begin to quiver and quickly moved to yank her back from whatever morbid train of thought she'd embarked on.

"So how are you?" He mentally slapped himself. _Fuck Grey, how do you think she's been? You've been spying on her every move. She's been miserable._

"Sorry. I mean, I know you haven't been well. I just," he began to sputter, terrified he'd blown their reunion before it even began.

"It's OK. I'm OK," Ana said reassuringly. _Still a basket-case, but that's a given_. "Thank you for asking."

Christian blew out the breath he'd been holding and resumed picking at his salad.

"Do you want to tell me about Flynn?" He eyed her expectantly. "You don't have to of course," he quickly added.

"No, it's fine. I will, but later. Can we just eat for now?"

"Of course baby." He winced. _Shit, slow down with the baby crap Grey._

Ana felt a surge of warmth when she heard the term of endearment he'd always used for her. But then the familiar pangs of guilt twisted her insides. _I'm not his baby. I'm the woman he babies because she can't take care of herself, the woman who can't give him any babies of his own. I have nothing to offer him but my unhappiness. I don't deserve his kindness, or his love. Why can't he see that? He says I lack self-preservation. He should take a look in the damn mirror! I'm only trying to save him from a life of making sacrifices and settling for less than he deserves._

Ana sighed. The weight of her guilt was like a 10-ton yoke around her neck. But she didn't want to ruin Christian's good mood. _I've done enough of that already_.

"So I heard you went back to work. Ros must be relieved. How is it going?" she inquired as brightly as she could. _I hate stupid small talk, but at least it's talk._

"Swamped. As always, Ros handled everything impeccably while I was away, but there's only so much she can do without me there in person. The Tokyo investors were getting antsy and I needed to seal that deal on my own."

"How did it go? I know they've been a pain from the get-go. Were you able to win them over?"

Christian put his fork down and stared into his wife's eyes. "Yes," he simply said. _The same way I'm going to win you over._

Flustered, she finished her soup and he promptly switched out her bowl with some steaming pasta.

Ana mindlessly twirled the noodles around her fork, trying to avoid splattering sauce on Christian's white dress shirt. "Can I ask you something?"

His head shot up. "Of course baby. Anything."

"Are you having websites on my browser blocked?"

Christian ran a hand through his weary face.

"You can't protect me from the outside world forever," she quietly admonished him.

"I can try, and I won't ever stop. Those bastards are relentless and they'll get what's coming to them — every last fucker out there. I'll spend every dime I have to keep people from saying shit about you. I won't apologize for that."

"It's a _Sisyphean_ task," she muttered. "People hate me." _Can't blame them. I don't exactly like myself either._

Christian reached out and grabbed her hand, lightly squeezing it. "Don't Ana. Please don't go down that path. A few psychotic, delusional losers with a broadband connection hate you and pretty much everything about life in general. That's why they're called haters. Everyone else loves you." He swallowed. "Myself included."

She gave him a rueful smile. "Sorry, I know you're right. It's silly to pay attention to crap that's made up about you online. I just hate that people can create a narrative about you based on absolutely nothing and then it sticks on the internet for a lifetime. Especially because the narrative about me touches on, well, you know, my problems, you know, not being able to have…"

Christian froze. The word "children" was lodged in Ana's throat but she couldn't get it out, so she swallowed it down, like her feelings, and moved on. "Umm, anyway, my only point is that it amazes me how cruel people can be for no reason, when they don't even know you. I guess it just makes me sad — to see that ugly side of humanity. Then again, the internet's a perfect, anonymous outlet for it I suppose. I need to tougher skin, too, though I can't help but be upset by it a little."

Christian tenderly grazed his thumb over the palm of Ana's hand. "That's because you're a beautiful, good person. And remember, most people aren't like that. You're focusing on the few bad apples. Most people are decent. You taught me that, remember?"

Her smile was small but genuine. "You're right. The crazies are just the loudest ones who hog the megaphone. I'll try not to let it rattle me. Can you just make sure you're not blocking any legitimate websites? I still need my daily dose of 'fake news.' I may be cooped up in this palace, but I'd still like to be connected to the real world."

"Of course baby," he grinned, elated that she still wanted to be connected to the outside world — and that she let his cyberstalking go for the moment. "Consider it done."

They quietly resumed eating and after dutifully sampling everything on the menu, waddled over to the couch. It was the first full meal either of them had had in over a month.

"Do you want to watch a movie?" Christian asked. _Because I'm sure as fuck not ready to leave_ _yet_.

"Umm OK," she stammered, making her way to the massive entertainment center Christian had purchased for her along with all the other furnishings in the apartment. She ran her fingers along the spine of DVDs. "I don't really know what movies are in here. I haven't watched any of them."

"Something lighthearted."

Ana chuckled to herself. _As if my stalker-extraordinaire would put a tearjerker among the movies he handpicked for me._

"Sounds good," she said, randomly picking out some inane comedy.

Ana sat back down on the couch while Christian moved as close as he could to her while maintaining a safe distance. She laughed at all the right moments, but he could tell it was forced — her sadness a palpable entity in the room that seemed to choke the spirit out of her and crowd out his good intentions. Any remote reference to children made her visibly cringe and him stiffen with uncertainty. Halfway through the movie, her eyes flitted close anyway, so he reached for the remote to turn the TV off and pulled a blanket over her.

"Sorry," she mumbled, the move startling her awake. "All that food made me sleepy I guess … and plus … the meds John put me on," she swallowed nervously. "Well, you know, how these meds are … with their side effects. They always make me sleepy."

She cast her eyes down, shame and self-loathing rolling off her in waves. _Yes, your crazy wife has to pop pills to keep from going even more bat-shit crazy._

Christian gently tilted her chin and began to caress her cheeks, grateful when she didn't pull away. "Don't apologize baby. For anything. I'm so proud of you for confronting your demons. You're so brave."

His touch and kind words broke the last of her resistance.

"There's nothing to be proud of," she sniffed, tears welling in her eyes. "I don't deserve your pride, your praise or your compassion. I don't deserve you. I never have. Can't you see that?"

Christian blinked, his jaw slack. "Whaaa…?"

"I'm a useless former submissive who's given you nothing but anguish and heartache," she began crying as her walls came crashing down. "I'm worthless and I'm so sorry for dragging you down with me. So sorry for everything I've put you through. I'm only trying to do the right thing here. I swear, I only want to do right by you even though it doesn't seem like it right now."

Christian gasped. Her confession felt like a dull blade lacerating his insides. He rushed to pull her into his embrace, his own eyes pooling with tears as she sobbed into his chest, chanting "I'm sorry" over and over again like a prayer that would absolve her of her sins.

"Christ Ana, don't you ever, ever say something like that again," he choked out, squeezing her tightly to him, like the vice that gripped his heart. "I don't ever want to hear you talk about yourself like that again. Can't I see? Can't _you_ see? You're everything to me. EVERYTHING! Anguish? You think all you've caused is anguish? You've given me the best fucking years of my life. Hell, I don't want a life if it doesn't have you in it!"

He clung to her, repeatedly kissing her hair while he rocked her trembling form. Her wails rent through room and shred what was left of his control. Christian carefully lifted her head and cradled her face, beseeching her to look at him.

"I know baby. I know you can't see this right now, but I'm begging you from the bottom of my soul to believe me. I love you. I want you, no matter what. You make me happy. You make me want to wake up each morning. There will never, ever fucking be another person for me. You're it. And I'll take you any damn way I can have you. I don't give a shit what our life looks like, whether it's just the two of us forever, whether we get a bunch of cats or whether we adopt a dozen kids. As long as we're together, that's all that matters to me, because this life isn't worth living without you. Do you hear me Ana?" he rasped, desperately searching her tear-stained face for some recognition that his pleas were sinking in.

"I'm so confused," she admitted, her vision blurry and her thoughts even fuzzier. "I feel so horrible for everything I've put you through. It's my fucked-up body and mind. It's my fault we can't have children. It's my fault I'm an emotional train-wreck. It's my fault I left you. How can you even take me back after what I've done? This guilt is gnawing away at what's left of my sanity. I feel guilty for hurting you. Guilty for being so helpless. Guilty for relying on you so much. Guilty for making this all about me when you've suffered just as much as I have. Guilty for all the things I can't fix. Guilty for leaving you. But most of all, I'd be guilty of the ultimate crime if I came back and robbed you of the future you so rightfully deserve. It kills me to be away from you, but it would absolutely finish me if you wind up resenting me for what I couldn't give you. I'm scared. Hell, I'm terrified that you'll hate me down the line and leave me."

She cried harder, the sound hitting him with the force of a sledgehammer.

"Enough. I can't take it any more," Christian snapped, his voice cracking as he cupped her cheeks, forcing her to look at him. "So you decided to beat me to the punch and leave me to spare yourself the pain? Or to somehow spare me? It doesn't work that way Ana. I can't take this any more. I know I promised to be patient and not overwhelm you but you need to listen to me and let this sink in. Me hating you? That would never fucking happen in a million years. Period. The only hate is the hatred you have for yourself that is preventing you from seeing what's right in front of you."

Christian brushed away her tears and matted hair, leaning down to plant a soft kiss on her forehead.

"You think you know what's best for me? Well guess what? Maybe I know what's best for me. And it's YOU," he said forcefully. "It's not complicated. I know you overthink everything baby but not one iota of this is complicated for me. For God's sake, I could never blame you for getting sick. What kind of man do you think I am? And I don't blame you for leaving either. I know you're lost right now, but I will never give up on you. Not one fiber of me resents you or is even capable of ever resenting you."

"But how," she hiccupped, an indescribable ache bearing down on her chest, making it hard to breathe. "How can I even ask you to make this enormous sacrifice for me? I know how excited you were when we found out about the first pregnancy. You can't deny it. You want a family. That's perfectly normal. It's not right for me to deny you that."

"First of all, _you_ are my family. Second of all, how can you ask me to make the ultimate sacrifice and live without you?" he countered, his gaze fierce and determined. "You'd be condemning me to a life of solitude and loneliness. That's a fact."

Christian grabbed her tiny hand and splayed it directly over his heart. "You know me Ana," he solemnly declared, emphasizing each word slowly. "You know me better than anyone in this world. Deep down, you know how much I love you, how much I will always love you and how much I will never regret spending my life with you. You know it will only ever by you. You. Know. That."

Ana stopped crying and felt the wild beating of his heart. For the first time in months, she also felt something other than numbness in hers. Fear, regret, desolation, frustration, rage and impotence came barreling down on her, but amid the tidal wave of emotion she had fought so long to suppress, there was also an undercurrent of hope.

"I … I don't know Christian. I mean, I know you love me. I just don't know what to do any more. I am lost — and ashamed. So ashamed. I don't want you to see me like this — broken and helpless. You're such a fighter and I feel like I've disappointed you. I despise being this weak. I want so much to get better, but no matter how hard I try, I just don't have it in me. I constantly hit this wall and I'm tired, so incredibly tired. It feels like breathing is a chore. Hell, I can barely muster the energy and motivation to get up most mornings. Each day blurs together into one big blob of nothingness. I don't even feel sad any more. I feel empty, like I can't go on any more. The miscarriages, the damn press — that was one thing — but then I lose half my freaking stomach _and_ what it literally means to be a woman. I just don't have it in me to deal with this any more," she exhaled, her rambling confession strangely cathartic.

"Then trust me. Have faith in me," he begged her. "In us. We're a team. Can't you see that? All this shit you've been through — it didn't just happen to you, it happened to _us_. The infertility, it's OUR problem, not yours. You're a woman — a _complete_ , beautiful woman — who has been through some serious trauma. You're entitled to feel messed up. Stop beating yourself up about it. And let's not act as if I'm exactly blameless here. As usual, I pushed you too far, too fast. I forced you to see all those shrinks and doctors when you were still healing, both physically and emotionally. I wouldn't give you an inch of space. I bombarded you with questions when you weren't ready to talk. I pressured you on trips and outings you weren't ready to take. I watched you like a hawk. Hell, I practically force-fed you until you vomited because your body hadn't healed yet. I saw you hurting and it hurt me, so I just threw everything at you to make it better."

"Stop. Don't do that. Don't blame yourself. Everything you did was out of love, and all I did was snap at you or shut you out because I couldn't bear to speak to another living soul. This isn't your fault. There's not exactly a manual on how to handle this kind of situation. Neither of us had any clue what we were doing."

"If you're so quick to absolve me, then why are you so quick to blame yourself Ana?"

She drew a ragged breath, his question leaving her winded. Christian pounced.

"Exactly baby. No one is to blame for any of this. Shit happens to everyone at some point in their lives. Stop carrying the burden on your own in some misguided effort to spare me. It's too heavy. You can't do it. You'll break, and when that happens, it will break me. We're in this life together. No matter what our future looks like, we'll figure it out _together_. You'd never give up on me if this situation was somehow reversed. Why on earth would you think I'd give up on you? I don't care how bad it gets. Lean on me. I'll be there with you, every step of the way. Not because I have to, but because I want to. Remember our vows? I swore to be by your side in good times and bad, sickness and health, just like you did with me. I meant every fucking word Ana. It's seared onto my heart and it will be until the day I die."

"Sickness and health, good times and bad," she murmured absentmindedly. "We've had a lot of the sickness and the bad lately."

"Yes baby, we have. But we've also been blessed with a lot of good." His hands pulled her face close to his, their warm breaths washing over each other like the rays of the sun after a storm.

Ana felt the noose of remorse that clung around her neck ease its grip for the first time in weeks. Blessed. The weight of that word hung heavy in the air. _I am blessed. Blessed to have my health. Blessed to have the security of a roof over my head. Blessed to have a job that helps others. And above all, blessed to have a man who irrevocably and unconditionally loves me_.

Ana reached up to reverentially brush her fingers through his soft copper hair, as if she couldn't believe he was actually there in front of her. Christian moaned at the contact and rested his forehead against hers, his arms instinctively wrapping around her.

"I've missed you," she squeaked out, her voice small but sure.

"Oh God Ana," he groaned, planting kisses over her eyes, cheeks and tip of her nose. "I've missed you too. So fucking much. I can't function without you."

"Forgive me."

"There's nothing to forgive," he breathed. "Actually there is. You have to forgive yourself baby."

A lone tear fell down her cheek as she stared up into his eyes, glistening with sincerity. She wove her fingers into his hair, rhythmically tugging on the ends, the space between them gradually disappearing. Like a wounded animal retracting its claws, the darkness and doubt began to recede, leaving in its wake a brutal truth that Ana could no longer deny.

"I love you." It was barely a whisper, but it was enough to force the beast inside her to whimper and retreat back to the shadowy recesses of her mind.

"Oh baby." Christian couldn't even finish his thought before his mouth was on hers, breathing in the essence that gave him life. One large hand wound around her back while the other cupped her head — lips, tongues and teeth colliding as the pent-up passion of their absence exploded.

They struggled for air but Christian refused to give up the sweet taste of the lips he'd been fantasizing about for weeks, until Flynn's nagging voice reminded him that Ana needed patience, not pressure.

He quickly pulled back, both of them gasping for breath. "I'm sorry baby. I didn't mean to rush you," he said, his chest heaving.

She reached up to smooth away a few errant locks of hair from his forehead, marveling at his capacity to love her no matter what obstacles life threw their way. His fingers gripped the back of her shirt tightly as he waited for his wife to speak, eyes riveted on every inch of her face.

Just as she had done in the beginning of their relationship, Ana had spent months dissecting and analyzing his love for her, but she was done overthinking it. Her brain was tired. Meanwhile, her body felt a long-suppressed spark of life and for once, she wasn't going to allow her mind to extinguish it.

"You're not rushing me. I miss you Christian, and I know what I want. I want you. I want us," she said, running her fingertips along the length of his cheek.

Christian let out a deep moan as his lips captured hers again, pressing her flush against him. He angled her head so he could plunder her mouth with wild abandon, her sweet yet sensual mewls driving him into a primal frenzy.

He carefully eased her back onto the couch and nestled himself between the heaven of her legs, his large frame swallowing hers. The feel of her skin set his own on fire, overwhelming his senses. Still, he kept his hands glued to the back of her head, keeping her in place as their tongues danced with each other.

But when Ana wrapped her legs around his waist and began grinding her hot core into his painful erection, he lost what was left of his mind.

"Oh God Ana," he panted, struggling to control himself. "I want you so much, but are you sure you're ready? I don't want to rush you, but I can't hold back much longer."

Neither could she.

"Yes, Christian, yes," she whimpered, showering his jawline with small kisses. "I know what I want. You. I need you. Now."

That was all the permission he needed. He roughly grabbed a breast, squeezing and massaging it as he rained kisses down her neck and collarbone. But when his roving hand reached her stomach, she tensed.

"What's wrong baby?" he gasped, resting his entire weight on his forearms as he lifted his body from hers.

"Nothing. I just." She paused, trying to calm her racing heart. "It's nothing. It's just that my stomach…"

Christian's eyes widened. _The scars_.

"Do they hurt?"

"No not at all. They've completely healed. It's just that … I don't know…"

"Ana, it's OK. We won't do anything you're uncomfortable with. I'm thrilled with everything that's happened tonight. Honestly, we can wait."

"It's not that," she said, struggling to verbalize her conflicted emotions. "I want to. But, can you just … avoid that area. I mean, if you don't want to do this, that's fine too. We can stop. I don't know if you still want to."

Christian stopped her nervous rambling with a kiss, feasting on her soft lips like a starved man.

After tasting every inch of her, he lifted his head back up. Every muscle in his body was taut with tension. "I want this so much more than you can possibly imagine, but only if you feel the same way," he gasped.

Ana stared into his grey eyes, the steely sincerity in them piercing the last of her resistance.

She nodded and entwined her fingers through his hair, bringing him down for another scorching kiss. Christian lost himself in the haven of her mouth as his hands gingerly skipped over her stomach and began rubbing the apex of her legs, shooting explosive tingles down her spine.

"Oh God Christian. Yes. Yes," she whimpered, grinding herself against the palm of his hand. "I can't take any more. I need you. Now!"

He reared up and grasped the front of her shorts, tearing them straight down the middle. Her panties were next and in an instant she was bare from the waist down.

Christian didn't hesitate, diving in to savor the taste of his wife as he held her down by the thighs. But he could only manage a few licks before his impatience got the better of him.

"Ana, I can't wait," he gritted out, fumbling with his belt buckle. "Are you sure about this?"

"Yes," she confirmed in a drawn-out moan, her head thrown back in ecstasy.

Christian freed his pulsating erection and with shaking hands slowly guided himself inside, inch by aching inch, her wetness easing the way. It took every shred of self-control to keep himself from ramming into her with all of his strength, his muscles quaking with restraint. Sweat clung to every inch of his body, but all he could concentrate on was their connection. Once he was fully buried to the hilt, he fell on his forearms and they both let a long, pent-up groan of satisfaction. It had been months since they were together. It had taken weeks for her body to physically heal from the surgeries, and even longer for her mind to heal.

They both stilled, their heaving chests brushing up against each other. All they could do was stare into each other's lust-glazed eyes, overwhelmed by the intense connection they shared. Christian arched his hips to bury himself even deeper, beads of sweat dripping from his brow. Each felt so complete, the void within them finally filled.

"Baby, I need to move," he rasped, his voice strained. "Are you alright?"

"Yes," she said, eyes rolling to the back of her head. "Move. Please."

Harsh grunts punctuated the air as he began sliding in and out her, circling his hips before pulling out and plunging back in. He leaned down and kissed her voraciously, his tongue dominating hers as their bodies became reacquainted with their each other.

Christian moved his mouth to nibble on her earlobe and bite down on her shoulder, his heated breath washing over her like a soothing blanket. Long, deliberate strokes quickly gave way urgent, animalistic thrusts.

"Oh yes. I need you," Ana cried, yanking on the roots of his hair while her legs tightened around his waist.

"Fuck baby," he drove into her, eliciting a strangled sob that bordered on the edge of passion and pain. "I won't last long. Come with me baby."

"Yes. I'm there. I'm there," she wailed.

"Oh, oh God," he roared, pounding into her relentlessly until they both shattered into a life-affirming climax that temporarily blinded them.

Christian's body spasmed violently as Ana detonated all around him, her walls milking him dry until he collapsed on top of her, replete and prostrate.

After several moments, he groggily lifted his head and peppered her face with kisses. "I love you Ana. So fucking much it hurts."

She hummed contentedly, too sated to speak. Christian slipped out of her and laid down next to her, his arm still firmly around her shoulders while the other played with her hair.

"Are you OK? What are you thinking?"

His question caught her off guard and a small frown began to form on her forehead.

"What's wrong baby? Tell me."

"It's nothing. Well, not nothing," she stammered. "There is something I need to tell you."

"Did I hurt you? Are you OK?" he asked, alarmed.

"No, it's not that. I just…"

"No Ana no," he gasped, his stomach dropping. "Please don't tell me you regret what just happened. Please don't do that to me. I don't think my heart could take that."

She quickly reached up to caress his cheek. "No, not at all," she reassured him. "I'm so glad that happened. I'm just not sure if I'm ready to move back in yet. I'll keep seeing Flynn and I want us to continue to reconnect. But I need a little more time before everything just goes back to normal."

"Oh baby, that's fine," he breathed, his panic receding. "We'll take this at your own pace. Just let me in — that's all I ask."

"I will," she promised. "And all I ask right now is to go to bed. If I was sleepy before, I'm completely knocked out now after that reunion."

Her soft giggle made his heart soar.

"Let me carry you."

Christian cradled her in his arms before laying her down on the large bed and tucking her in.

"You like taking care of me," she observed.

"Yes. It's my job," he replied matter-of-factly.

"That sounds like an obligation."

He stopped fluffing up her pillows and looked down at her. "Yes, my most sacred one. And the one I enjoy the most. Taking care of you makes me happy baby."

His simple declaration left her reeling. Just as she had done after he'd declared his undying love to her after their first gala together years earlier, Ana knew exactly what she wanted — and what Christian wanted — and she wasn't going to deny either of them any longer.

She pulled back the covers. "Lay with me. Hold me." It wasn't a request. It was a wife telling her husband what she needs.

"Of course baby." He leapt inside the bed, wrapping his arm firmly around her shoulder.

"Is this OK?"

"Yes, thank you."

"No Ana, thank you."

Three weeks later, Ana did move back home. Three months later, through her work helping to resettle war-torn refugees, Ana stumbled across a little girl named Nayla. And a year after they adopted Nayla, they welcomed another young rambunctious girl named Amber into their lives.

 ******END FLASHBACK – PRESENT TIME******

Christian and Ana sat together in the backseat as Ryan drove them home. Taylor was still technically the head of the Greys' overall security team, although he was now semi-retired and no longer escorted Christian around as his personal bodyguard. He and Gail lived in a separate house on the edge of the Greys' property. Gail still regularly cooked for the family, but otherwise she was more of an aunt to Nayla and Amber than an employee. Ana enjoyed trying her hand at cooking dinner because it was a good excuse to gather their busy family together. After several years of trying in vain to dust their massive residence, however, she did draw the line at cleaning, agreeing to a maid who came in once a week to tidy up.

Ana rested her head on Christian's bicep, her fingers mindlessly twirling the strap on her purse. Christian's arm was slung around her, his thumb stroking her shoulder as he scrolled through the emails on his phone with his other hand.

After a few minutes of silence, he put his phone away and kissed his wife's hair. "What's going on in that pretty little head of yours?"

"Nothing."

Christian snorted.

"OK, everything," she sighed. "But it's not pretty. What if something happens and we need John?"

"Then we call him. Baby, he's retiring, not moving to another planet."

Ana shrugged. "I know, but it's not the same. He's always been there for us on speed-dial. Plus, he knows all our dirty little secrets, and he still somehow likes us."

"That's exactly why he loves us. Our secrets have paid the down payment on his early retirement," Christian chuckled. "Seriously baby, look at me."

Ana lifted her head from the crook of his arm. Even after 20 years, the radiance of her speckled eyes momentarily took his breath away. Christian reached out to brush his thumb across her cheek.

"We also have each other. John's always helped us, but at the end of the day, we help each other."

She nodded in agreement, but her gaze remained wary.

"This isn't 12 years ago," he gently reminded her, articulating her unspoken fears. "We got through that, just like we'll conquer anything else thrown our way."

Ana's face gradually cracked into a radiant smile. "That's because you're Superman."

Christian laughed. "So does that make you my trusty sidekick?"

She scrunched her nose. "No. Why do they always make the women the sidekicks? I want to be a superhero too!"

"You do realize there's a character called Superwoman right? I believe the eighth sequel of that movie is coming out this weekend."

"Yeah, and her costume gets skimpier with each sequel. Only thing super about her is that her boobs haven't popped out yet," she huffed.

"Speaking of boobs," Christian mischievously grinned, snaking an arm under her shirt.

Ana giggled, swatting away his probing hand. The privacy divider wasn't up and even after 20 years, she hated PDAs in front of the security staff.

"You'll get to speak to them later," she whispered, her sensual promise hanging in the air.

Suddenly her eyes went wide as she remembered something.

"Oh! speaking of boobs … well not boobs … actually, absolutely no boobs involved. None whatsoever," she stuttered.

Christian furrowed his brows. She took a deep, fortifying breath.

"What I meant to say is that I'm going dress-shopping with the girls on Saturday and I know you'll want final approval of what they pick out to wear for the dance, so I'll text you photos to make sure the dresses meet your exacting standards. Nice and conservative — we promise — all boobs completely covered up! They're basically going to be wearing turtle necks!"

Christian groaned and closed his eyes, his head slapping back against the leather seat.

"First off, don't even mention boobs and my daughters in the same sentence. Second of all, final approval? What final approval? I never approved them going to the dance in the first fucking place! The three of you steamrolled me into that bullshit!"

Ana gave him her most seductive smile and began rubbing her hand against his chest, a patented routine she had mastered over the last two weeks every time the subject of the girls going to their first school dance came up.

"No, we lovingly pleaded our case that they're old enough to go to a dance as long as security was present, and you graciously agreed to drop the matter."

"Nooooo, you lovingly ganged up on me and browbeat me into silence or distracted me with sex."

"But it was all still done out of love," she winked.

"Ana, this is no laughing matter. They're only 15 — far too young to start dating," he said sternly.

"They're not dating, but they are taking two nice boys whose families we know very well to a school-sponsored dance as a reward for their good grades this year," she reminded him with a wry smile.

"Nice? Please Ana, stop being so naïve. I guarantee you those nice young fuck-nuts are picturing doing very naughty things to our daughters as we speak. Hell, they're too young to even be wearing lipstick, let alone be shopping for plunging sequined ball-gowns! But do any of you listen to me? Nooo. Instead, all three of you think this is all some kind of cute little joke!"

"Yes, it's all a conspiracy to make your life miserable," Ana said, failing to hide the amusement in her voice. "And they wear cherry-flavored lip gloss by the way, not lipstick."

"God damn it Ana, will you take this seriously?"

"Sorry, but I can't take you seriously when you say fuck-nut," she giggled.

Christian pouted, extracting the arm wrapped around his wife and crossing both arms in front of his puffed-out chest, which only caused Ana to laugh harder.

"Christian, stop freaking out about this. Those so-called 'fuck-nuts' are about as harmless as a bag of walnuts. Between the two of them, what do they weigh? A combined 200 pounds probably. Hell, the girls don't even need security. Amber alone has the muscle to take on both of them. Those boys are about as popular as I was back in high school for goodness sake! Their extracurricular activities consist of drama, the chess team and playing the violin. Not to mention the fact that you've run extensive background checks on everyone in their family up to their third cousins and they're about as exciting as the Brady Bunch. The girls deserve a night out. For my sanity and theirs, will you please let this go!"

He stared stubbornly ahead. "No. Fuck that. I didn't agree to this and I'm not going down without a fight."

"Christian, please," she pleaded as sweetly as she could. "I'm really tired of arguing over this. It's done. We told them they could go. Let's just get this dance over with and move on with our lives."

She reached out to turn his face toward her, but he pulled away, leaving her hand hanging in midair.

"Correction, you told them they could go Anastasia. My opinion didn't count for jack-shit in the matter. So since you don't listen to a word I say anyway, I have nothing further to say to you," he said coldly.

Ana sighed, slumping back to her side of the backseat. "Fine. Have it your way," she muttered, gazing dejectedly out the window.

 _Oh good grief. How much longer is he going to fight me on this? I know they'll always be daddy's little girls to him but I won't let his overprotectiveness deprive them of the normal teenage experiences that neither of us ever got to enjoy. Outside of school activities and hanging out with a few friends, everything else they do is with us. They need this. And deep down, Christian needs this too._

She glanced over at her husband, who sat rigidly in his seat, refusing to look at her.

 _Fuck. I hate to pull out the "I'm upset" card on Christian, but he's got to take this stick out of his ass. Jeez, the things I do for those girls._

Ana let out an audible sigh tinged with pain, staring down in mute fascination at the leather car seat in front of her. Yelling Christian could deal with. Sad silence he could not. And she knew it.

"God damn it Ana! What do you expect me to do? Roll over like some weak-ass chump."

She promptly migrated back to his side of the seat and laced her fingers with his while the palm of her other hand cupped his jaw.

"No, I expect you to graciously agree to let your daughters have a well-deserved night out like the loving father that you are."

"Quit buttering me up with your BS Ana," he grumbled.

"It's not BS," she said sincerely, stroking his stubble. "You're a wonderful father. And an amazing husband."

Christian exhaled, the fight draining out of him with each gentle touch.

"I don't like this."

"I know you don't," she said softly. "But we love you for it."

He looked down and was met with a pair of doe eyes that melted the last of his resistance.

He leaned down and gave her a lop-sided grin. "Amazing husband eh?"

"When you're not making life a living hell of course," she smirked back.

Christian suddenly grabbed her by the waist and lifted her onto his lap — and his waiting erection.

"So what will you do to reward this amazing husband of yours?" he growled, smashing his lips on hers.

He had already pressed the button on the privacy divider and unbuckled his pants before she could even respond.


	31. Chapter 31

_**AUTHOR'S NOTE: Next few chapters are some lighthearted moments in their day-to-day life, before the drama starts back up!**_

Christian snuck his hand under Ana's tank top, ignoring her snoring as he began fondling her breast.

He had already shut her alarm off three times while she as usual dozed straight through it. Why does she put it on classical music knowing she won't wake up to that? She's just setting herself up for disaster. Oh well, her lateness is my gain.

Their romp in the backseat three weeks earlier had been the last time he got sex. Shortly afterward, Nayla and Amber caught some stomach bug that had been floating around school, followed by Ana. Then he had an emergency trip out to New York. He had returned home late last night, cranky and horny.

Christian's feather-light touches roused Ana from her slumber. She moaned, her eyelids flitting open, until she saw the time on the alarm clock.

"Oh fuck," she exclaimed, flinging the covers — and Christian's hands — off of her. "Crap! Why didn't you tell me it was 7:30. It's my first day back and I've got back-to-back meetings at 8. Shit, shit, shit! Thank God I had the wherewithal to shower last night."

Christian heard Ana rustling around in the closet, still shell-shocked from his wife's disappearing act.

"Ana, come back to bed. Just give me five minutes."

She popped out of the closet, clad only in a bra and panties. "What? Are you nuts? What part of 8 a.m. meeting did you not understand?"

She ducked back into the closet, ratcheting up Christian's frustration.

"The part where you don't have five minutes to be with your husband," he whined, hot on her heels. Before he could even make it to the closet though, she was already racing for the bathroom, dressed in a white blouse and black skirt.

"When did you even put that on? Take it off baby."

"Forget it Grey. My clothes stay on so you better keep it in your pants. I gotta get to work."

"Come on Ana, it's been three fucking weeks. I'm a horny husband who's entitled to a good fuck from his wife. Now get back into bed and give me one!"

Ana snorted as she hastily applied some makeup. "No, you're an insensitive ass who's lucky he's not getting a swift kick in that ass for nagging me about sex when I've been puking my guts out for the better part of two weeks — alone I might add."

"Because I had a multimillion-dollar deal to close, I might add," he snapped back. "And whatever happened to arse?"

"That flew out the window a decade ago. You're just a good old-fashioned ass nowadays."

"And you're being a bitc…" Christian caught himself.

Ana glared at him but he shrugged his shoulders like a spoiled teenager.

"Oh, quit staring at me. I didn't say it." _I sure thought it_ _though_.

"Doesn't mean you didn't think it," she countered, flying a brush through her tangled hair. After a few seconds, she gave up and tied her unruly mane into a ponytail, ignoring the pouty husband leaning against the doorframe. "Whatever Christian. I think we're a little too old for name-calling anyway. The point is that between me and the girls drowning in vomit for the better part of three weeks thanks to the stomach flu — a bug that you conveniently didn't get because you were out of town — now I'm drowning in work, so I absolutely can't be late today!"

"Me going out of town wasn't exactly convenient. In fact, it was a huge _inconvenience_. You think I want to be holed up in a boardroom trying to convince a bunch of jerkoffs to give me their money? Besides, you know how much I hate leaving you and the girls when you're sick," Christian groused, arms crossed against his chest.

Ana's face softened. "I know, and I don't blame you for having to go. But now I'm so behind at the office, the girls have a ton of homework to catch up on and you're going out of town to New York again next week," she reminded him with a hint of bitterness.

"And I told you to come with me!"

"Christian, be sensible. The girls and I can't drop everything to follow you around the country every time you have a business trip."

"As I recall, you're the one who always told me that I had to drag you guys with me wherever I went so we don't spend too much time apart."

"Excuse me, I didn't realize we were such a burden," Ana sniped, desperately trying to fluff up her limp ponytail.

"You know that's not what I meant," he said, his tone more conciliatory. "I've always arranged every trip with you and the girls in mind. I turn down anything where you can't come with me but I couldn't refuse this last trip or the investors would have bailed."

Ana gave up on her hair and frowned as she eyed her lopsided ponytail in the mirror. _Lipstick. Maybe some bright red lipstick will draw attention away from the bird's nest that's taken up residence on top of my head._

"You look fine baby," Christian mumbled, still stung by her earlier rejection.

She gave him a warm smile. "Thank you. I don't. But thank you. And thank you for always letting the girls and I tag along with you. I know it can be a pain to rearrange your schedule and I appreciate it. You know my theory. Distance can be the death of even the strongest relationships. It's always been my motto and that's why I make such a big deal about us spending time together."

"First off, it's my motto too. I'm not one of those chumps who ditches their family to go out of town every other week, so that has never been — and never will be — our relationship. And secondly, I don't _let_ you guys tag along. I love having my wife and children with me and being able to show them the world."

"I know," Ana swooned. "You're the best husband and father ever, despite your occasional grumpiness." _Especially when you haven't gotten laid in a while_. "But we've already been with you to San Francisco and Miami this year alone, so I don't think we can make it to New York as well. But I love you for trying to include us."

"Love you too." _Even though I haven't gotten laid in forever._ "Which is why I already had Hannah cancel your appointments next week," Christian muttered under his breath, staring down at his bare feet.

"Huh?" Ana asked distractedly as she applied another coat of lipstick. "Sorry hun, I didn't hear you."

"Nothing. I'll tell you later," his voice trailed off. _Once I've made sure everything is rescheduled and you have no choice but to come with me._ He looked up to give her an innocent smirk.

"OK," Ana said brightly as she reached for the hairspray. In her haste, she accidentally knocked over her makeup bag, spilling its contents. Ana sighed as tubes of lipstick, mascara and eyeliner rolled across the marble counter and clattered onto the floor. _Oh fuck it. I barely look presentable as it is. A little more cover-up ain't gonna conceal these grocery-size bags under my eyes._

"Just leave it. You look beautiful," Christian reassured her, bending down to pick up the debris. _Klutzy but beautiful_.

"I look like a cross between a hooker and a clown, but it'll have to do. Don't worry about the makeup. I'll get it later," she said, rushing past him and out of the bathroom — only to step directly onto a wet patch on the carpet.

"What the!" Ana shrieked, looking down at a heap of half-eaten food mixed with watery bile. "Ewww. The cats vomited again! God damn it, don't tell me cats can catch stomach bugs now too? Whatever, I don't have time for this. Christian, can you clean this up please?"

"Wait? What? Hell no. I'll pick up your lipstick but I'm not touching that shit. It's disgusting."

Ana ran back to the bathroom to grab a wad of toilet paper to wipe off the bottom of her foot before darting back into the closet to find a pair of shoes.

"Ummm, yeah, I know it's disgusting. I've seen nothing but puke for the last three weeks, and since you largely got to avoid the show, the least you can do is help me out with this latest act."

"I didn't even want the fucking cats in the first place!"

"Well, that ship sailed about seven years ago," Ana said nonchalantly.

"Seven years of litter, expensive-ass food and vomit," Christian huffed in indignation as he watched his wife struggle to balance herself on one foot while she put on some high heels.

"Why don't you sit down on the chair I bought you so you can put your shoes on like a normal person instead of hopping around like a deranged bunny? How many times have I told you that you're going to break a leg doing that," he scolded her, grabbing her arm with one hand while the other dug out two open-toe flats. "Here. Put on the black pair. The blue ones don't match and the heels are too high for you. And for God's sake, hang onto my arm while you do that!"

"What happened to always wanting to see me in high-heel Louboutins?" she winked, gripping his arm for support.

"That went out the window years ago. I'd rather see you in flats than a cast."

"Probably a good idea since I still manage to bust my butt in flats," she giggled, leaning up on her tiptoes to give him a grateful kiss on the cheek. "Thank you for the shoe assistance. And April and May thank you as well for cleaning up after them," she teased, batting her eyelashes at him.

"I didn't say I'd clean up the puke! And who the fuck names two cats April and May — after the months we got them? Real clever."

Ana put her hands on her hip, cocking her head. "Two little girls who thought it would be cute — and a daddy who wanted to spoil his princesses rotten so he told them it was a genius idea."

"Yeah, those princesses also promised to clean up after said cats. Seven years later, they've scooped out the litter about 10 times between the two of them. Meanwhile, April and May have become a royal pain my ass all year-round!"

Ana brushed past her fuming husband, scouring the room for her handbag. "Yeah, said the man who's scooped up the litter all of 10 times — to the woman who does it twice a day, every day! Seriously, Christian, do you see what time it is? I guarantee you the girls are running late for school as it is and will try and skip out on breakfast if I don't catch them in time. Plus, you don't have any meetings this morning. This is the first time in over a year I've asked you to clean up the puke. Quit complaining — you sound worse than the girls do when they don't get their way."

"Fuck that noise! They always get their way. So do you. I'm the only one in this house who never get what he wants."

Ana arched her brow at him, trying to rein in her laughter. "While I feel nothing but incredibly sorry for the billionaire who has the world bowing at his feet every day and who has gotten sex on the regular from his devoted wife of 20 years, I have to grab a rain-check from this pity party and get to work. So if you excuse me." She turned toward the door.

"ANA," he barked, not sure what he wanted to yell about but trying his best to sound intimidating nonetheless.

"There's a rag in the hall closet," she said breezily, ignoring his tantrum. "Just wet it, wipe up the puke, rinse out the rag and throw it in the laundry."

"That's eight steps too many."

"Not sure how four doubled to eight, but being the math whiz that you are, I'm sure you'll master each and every step. See you downstairs if you can crack the code of cleaning up kitty vomit and join us for a quick bite. Love ya," Ana grinned, furiously gathering up her laptop and briefcase before running out the door without a glance back, leaving Christian in the middle of the floor next to a pile of pinkish-gray goo.

"Motherfucking cats," Christian grumbled as he headed to the closet for the rag. "Five fucking females in this house and not one of them listens to a word I say."


	32. Chapter 32

Christian stalked down to the kitchen to find his girls scrambling around a messy counter laden with empty bowls of cereal, iPads, makeup, purses and scattered paperwork. April and May immediately ran to bump their heads against his legs.

"Did you save any for me?" he muttered, shaking the cereal box — and shaking off the two clingy cats who always made a beeline for the one person in the room who didn't want to pet them.

"Sorry dad," Amber said, absentmindedly reading a new text message on her phone. "You know Frosted Flakes are my favorite. They're great!" she giggled, texting with one hand while the other lifted the last spoonful to her mouth.

"Too great to share I suppose," he grumbled.

Ana stepped away from washing her bowl in the sink and gave him a quick peck on the cheek. "There's some of that wheat-bran cereal in the pantry. It's better for your cholesterol anyway."

"I don't want that flavorless shit," Christian whined.

Ana smacked his arm.

"Stuff. I said stuff."

"Nah uh dad," Nayla chimed in, busy reading her own phone. "We all heard that. Mom's going to kick your arse later."

"Nayla, what did I tell you about using that word. It's no better than ass," Christian reprimanded her.

"What the hell guys?" Ana cut in, exasperated.

"I believe you meant to say heck," Christian arrogantly smirked, grabbing a container of apple strudel from the fridge that Gail had made for dessert last night.

Ana narrowed her eyes, snatching the container from his hand and putting it right back in the fridge. "Oh shush smart-butt. And you're having bran for breakfast — not pie. Doctor — and wife's — orders."

"Damn it Ana, let me eat cake."

"You're not Marie Antoinette. No," she dismissed him, pulling out a bland-looking box from the back of the cupboard and placing it on the counter in front of him before resuming her clean-up duties. "And everyone watch their potty mouths or I'll use this soap to wash them out!"

"I didn't curse mom," Amber bragged, still immersed in her texts.

Christian sat on the barstool and leaned over to sneak a peek. She quickly pulled the phone away from his prying eyes. "Dad! What the hell?"

"Amber!" Ana snapped.

"Sorry, but dad was spying on me — again!"

"First of all, I don't need to spy," Christian informed her, reluctantly pouring the cereal that bore a remarkable resemblance to the cat vomit from earlier. "I pay for your iPhone, iPad, iPod and whatever other i-device you use to communicate with the outside world. Every word you write comes out of my pocket and therefore belongs to me."

"That doesn't give you the right to spy," Nayla and Amber said in unison.

"Like hell it doesn't," Christian scoffed, shoveling cereal into his mouth before he heard another cholesterol-related lecture from his wife.

"If one more person says hell around here, I'm going to take away everyone's phones for the day," Ana interrupted, gathering up the girls' dirty bowls and putting them in the sink.

"Ohhhhh, that would be the end of the world for Amber. Then she couldn't text her lover boy Brad," Nayla teased her sister.

"What the fuck," Christian roared as he slammed the box of cereal down on the counter, spilling some of the flakes. "Lover boy?!"

"Christian," Ana shrieked. "What did I just say about curse words damn it!"

"Technically, damn is a bad word mom," Nayla calmly reminded her.

Ana sighed, dropping her head in defeat. _You know what, I just don't give a shit any more._

"Fuck the words! What the hell is all this lover-boy nonsense!" Christian bit out.

Amber shot her older sister a deadly stare. Nayla quickly put both hands up in surrender.

"Sorry. Sorry. Kidding. Kidding. It was just a joke. Relax dad."

"Not funny Nayla. I don't want to hear any more about this Brad," he hissed, disgust lacing each syllable. "Dance is over. And no more Wren or Ron or whatever his name was for you either."

"His name was Will dad," Nayla corrected him.

"Will, Bill, John, Sean, whatever. He's gone — just like Brad is. In fact, no more boys. No more dates. And no more headaches for dad." _Ever, if I had my way on the matter, which I don't._

Both girls pursed their lips while their mom pretended to be busy rinsing off dishes that were already clean, not wanting to become entangled in another knock-down brawl over dating daughters.

But those daughters would not be deterred. As usual, Amber was the first to strike a defiant tone. "Dad, if we can 'never' go out, then how do you expect us to get married and have kids one day?"

"I expect you to worry about grades, graduation and college, not dates, weddings and babies," Christian said in a commanding tone that had little effect on the two teenagers.

"That's what we do all the time," Nayla said, coming to her sister's defense. "No one's talking about marriage for goodness sake. But talking to boys? We're in high school now. Come on dad, don't you think you're being a little extreme?"

"Nope," Christian shrugged insolently. Ana kept her back turned away from the three of them, silently shaking her head in amusement. _If I want to make it to work before noon, I'm sure as hell not stepping into this little exchange. Let them duke it out without me for once._

"If mom followed those silly rules, she never would never have met you dad," Amber pointed out.

"Mom was 21 when we met," Christian countered gruffly. _And I sure as hell am not getting into the sordid story of how we met._

"Yes, but you said she was shy and you had to win her over. Imagine if she had remain closed off and never agreed to be with you," Nayla said.

Christian and Ana flinched — her at the memory of being a submissive and him at the prospect of his wife never being with him.

"Your mom was always going to be with me," Christian said authoritatively. "We were in love. We were also mature enough to know what love is. Come back and talk to me when you're 21. Better still, come back and talk to me when you're 31."

"Whatever dad. The point is that mom was still pretty young and may have been different with you if she had been super-sheltered," Amber replied, a challenging glint in her eye.

"Ummm, you know _she_ is still right here. And _she_ doesn't know how she got dragged into this conversation," Ana said. _She also prefers the "Orphan Annie" version of her upbringing that we taught you, where I grew up in a foster home raised by a benevolent nun._

Christian cut in before the kids dug any further into their mother's past. "Your mother's right. Don't compare our situation to yours. And finish your breakfast. You're late."

Ana's lips curled into a sly smile as she turned back toward the sink. _Oh, so now I'm finally right and we're on the same page?_

"I'm just saying. Mom talked to boys and everything wound up fine for her," Amber doggedly pressed her case while tapping away on her phone.

Christian pinched the ridge of his nose. Nothing could wind him up like his girls.

"Your mom didn't talk to boys. She talked to one man — me — when she was in college and married him. End of story. No more men for her, and no more boys for you."

Both girls rolled their eyes. "OK, forget about you and mom. All I mean is that at some point, boys and girls do have the right to talk to each other," Amber said.

"And there's nothing wrong with hanging out with each other either," Nayla added.

"When you pay a mortgage and tuition for private school, then go ahead and lecture me about rights. Until then, guess what? Parents have all the rights — not the kids. You know what you guys have? Rules. And rule number one — they'll be no talking or hanging out with boys, or anything else for that matter. Case closed," Christian grunted, ignoring the perpetual eye-rolling in his household.

He resumed eating but didn't miss the subtle look his daughters exchanged with their mother.

He suddenly dropped the spoon into his bowl, splashing milk onto the counter. "Oh HELL no! If either one of you is even thinking of going out with those douches again, you can bet I'll say every curse word under the God damn sun. And then I'll have a few more to say to these two idiots before I tell them to permanently fuck off."

"Daaaad," Amber spoke up. "You seriously need to chill. Brad is just a friend who wants to hang out. What's the big deal?"

"Excuse me? The big deal?" he asked incredulously. Christian stood up but Ana rushed over and gripped his bicep, assuming her mom-as-mediator role.

"Girls, this isn't the time or the place to discuss this." She shot them both a warning glare. "You're late for school. Why don't you get going?"

"Ana, don't even think about it," Christian began but was cut off by the whirl of his daughters giving him a kiss on each cheek.

"Bye dad. See you later. Good luck mom," they waved to both of them, snickering to each other as they bolted for the door.

"Amber, you forgot that textbook e-reader thing," Christian yelled out.

Nayla came running back in. "I know. She always forgets it. Don't worry, I've got it. Bye!"

Christian watched Nayla turn the corner and then rounded on Ana, towering over her.

"Don't you dare tell me that you're thinking of letting them go on another date. We agreed Anastasia. One fucking dance. That was it! I'm not getting railroaded by the three of you again."

Ana began massaging her temples, squeezing her eyes shut.

"Christian, it's not even 8 in the morning yet. Can we do this later?"

"No, now Anastasia," he thundered.

"Fine, I know we agreed. They approached me about a party that their friend Linda was hosting and were upfront about the fact that Brad and Will would be there. I praised them for being honest and told them that I wasn't letting them do anything without having a discussion with you about it first," she tried to explain as calmly as she could.

"First off, there's nothing to discuss. One and done. That was the deal! Secondly, when were you planning on having this discussion with me Anastasia? An hour before their date?"

"No of course not. Give me an ounce of credit. Between being sick, you traveling and me being swamped with work, we haven't had a moment alone." She cautiously approached him and placed both hands on his chest. "I'll finally be caught up at the office today and was planning on leaving early this afternoon to come home and relax. Why don't you join me and we can catch up?"

Christian didn't miss the unmistakable innuendo in her question.

"Yeah, as in catch up, you mean fuck me into forgetting about this dating shit again. Nice try. You owe me sex anyway — and you're not using it this time to get out of the doghouse again."

"Excuse me? First of all, I don't owe you shit," she shot back, indignant. "And I'm not in the doghouse for being reasonable with our daughters. Now if you're done with your epic temper tantrum this morning, perhaps we could behave like adults this afternoon and have a civilized conversation and then enjoy some alone time together."

Christian's dick twitched and despite his anger, he pressed his wife up against the counter with his tall frame, letting her feel his growing erection.

"We're alone now," he said seductively. "And I'm pretty much ready to fuck you into this afternoon and beyond."

A sharp intake of breath betrayed her arousal, but Ana's brain overpowered her libido. "And I'm already running half an hour late," she pointed out.

He roughly pushed himself off of her. "Fine. Wouldn't want you to be late. Work is clearly more important to you than your husband."

Ana stared up at the ceiling. Her neck ached from her husband's mood swings, but she made one last attempt to mollify him.

"Christian, don't be like that. I miss you too and I don't want to argue any more. I can't skip out on this meeting. A team of lawyers from the U.N. won't exactly believe that I've had the stomach flu for three weeks in a row. Can't you just leave work early and join me this afternoon?"

"You're not the only one with work to do Ana. I'm meeting with Sylvia from Metro Builders this afternoon, remember?"

Ana frowned and went to grab her purse. "Of course. Heaven forbid you cancel on the Victoria's Secret model who doubles as a CEO," she gritted through her teeth.

"Ana, don't start this jealousy shit again. It didn't work out well for you last time." He stood with his arms crossed across his broad chest, arrogance personified. "I do recall a certain suspicious wife spying on my emails when she found about this 'model' — only to find absolutely nothing incriminating because I barely communicate with the woman as it is." _Because I'm not dumb enough to draw the wrath of my wife who likes to pretend that I'm the only jealous one in the relationship._

Ana shot her hand up. "Fine, fine. I already apologized for snooping." _Even though you've done it to me a million times._ "You left your laptop open and it was a one-time thing. Whatever. Have a good meeting." _With that skank_. "I'll see you whenever then. Bye."

Christian promptly yanked his furious wife back into his arms.

"Jealous Mrs. Grey?" he purred, nuzzling her neck.

"No, I'm late — and irritated," she huffed, trying to dodge his advances.

"Well so am I. You drive me insane woman." He grabbed the back of her head and planted a forceful kiss on her mouth, prying her lips open to shove his tongue deep inside. He felt his wife's resistance melt away as he plundered her mouth, his hands snaking down to squeeze her behind and keep her wedged between his groin and the counter. Their tongues dueled with each other for several minutes before Christian reluctantly pulled away. He surveyed his wife's flushed face, admiring his handiwork. "But I'm not crazy enough to ever cheat on you Mrs. Grey, so get those silly thoughts out of your head."

"I'm not silly," she pouted, doing her best to act offended while catching her breath.

"Yes you are," he smirked. "But I love you anyway. You're a pain, but you're my pain in the ass."

"And you're a cranky arse," she volleyed back.

"But you love me anyway," he playfully retorted.

"Your arse definitely," she flirted. "And a few other bits and pieces, but that cantankerous mouth of yours? Hmmmm, I'll have to think about that."

"I'll show what my mouth can do later," he said, smacking another kiss on her lips before grabbing a handful of her ass and giving it a strong pinch, making her yelp.

Christian threw her an innocent look as he walked back to his barstool and his now even mushier cereal.

"What? You didn't think you'd get away with that arse comment did you?"

He was about to sit down when Ana gave his behind a solid whack. Christian jumped.

"Now we're even," she gave him a coy wink before heading out the door.

Christian chuckled. "Women."


	33. Chapter 33

_**AUTHOR'S NOTE: I know some people will dislike Christian in this chapter, but like I said, I wanted him to be like a real guy and not the fantasy fiction romantic hero. And let's face it, most real guys look (and drool) at attractive women. He's faced with temptation but is never actually tempted to cheat. He does, yes, do what I think most average husbands would do: Sneak a peek before shutting it down! Also, I know this scenario has played out in a thousand other fan fictions, but I'm basing Christian's surprised reaction on the fact that in real life, this king of thing would be pretty unusual.**_

Christian was surreptiously eyeing the beautiful woman sitting across from his desk as she quietly studied the detailed contract in front of her. He admired Sylvia Temer's tenacity and work ethic. It was rare to find a woman who excelled in the male-dominated field of engineering — rarer still to find one who'd built an entire empire out of building things, from roads and bridges in war-torn nations to oil pipelines in Canada. Sylvia didn't let anything — man or machine — stand in the way of her success.

Beyond her business acumen, however, Christian couldn't deny that Sylvia possessed plenty of other admirable qualities. She stood a statuesque six feet tall, slim but with curves in all the right places. Her eyes were a striking mix of hazel and chocolate, and her luxurious black hair flowed down to her ass, which Christian had to admit was just about perfect.

The CEO suddenly shook his head and resumed reading his own copy of the contract. _Stop drooling Grey or your wife will kick your own ass later. Somehow she always knows when I've been staring at women, even if she's 50 miles away. Ana reads me better than the manuscripts she edits all day. Fortunately she knows I abide by the husband code: Look but never touch. She knows the occasional glance is harmless. Hell, I'm more faithful than the pope. At least she's finally gotten over her silly insecurities, but Sylvia really crawls under her skin. Can't blame her. The woman's gorgeous — whole package. She's a triple threat: Beauty, brains and balls. I've never seen a tougher woman in my life. She goes after whatever she wants and she gets it. Then again, what sane man would deny her? Whoever taps that ass has won the Olympics of fucking._

Christian glanced at one of the many framed photos of Ana on his desk. _That's alright. I've got my prize at home, and she can bet her ass is mine tonight. She may not know it, but I'm also dragging that ass to New York because I'm not going another week without sleeping next to to my wife — or being inside her for that matter. I've got big plans for us in the Big Apple baby._

"I heard your speech at the Seattle Business Chamber gala by the way. I liked your defense of free trade agreements with Asia," Sylvia said, snapping Christian out of his reverie.

"Oh thanks. I didn't see you there."

"Necessary evil. I do my networking and get out of those things as soon as possible."

"Same here."

"Yeah, I think you bolted for the door even faster than me. You didn't even stick around for all your adoring fans after the speech. People really liked your talk about the dangers of xenophobia and nationalism."

"My wife wrote that," he replied offhandedly, chewing on the end of a pencil while concentrating on the document in front of him. "Anything political or eloquent always comes from her. She's my speechwriter."

"Oh, but I didn't see your wife with you," she casually observed.

"No, Ana didn't come. She hates the networking events as much as I do." _And has severe anxiety about them, so I don't push her too much_.

"That's too bad. She shouldn't leave you to fend for yourself among those sharks."

"She accompanies me to the important ones. Plus, my girls had the stomach flu so I wanted to get home as soon as possible."

"Sorry to hear that. I hope they're feeling better," Sylvia politely remarked before switching gears. "I can't believe these guys are nickeling and diming us over lumber supplies. They should be thrilled with the deal we're offering them."

Sylvia's company had partnered with GEH for a joint venture to build affordable housing in and around Seattle. Their first acquisition was a local contracting company that had successfully flipped over 100 homes.

"Yeah I know. They're a bunch of ungrateful bastards. They wanted out of the Seattle market so they could move to Vegas, which they think will be more lucrative, and we're offering them a fair price given that home prices in the area have held steady and profits aren't what they used to be."

"Vegas is overhyped anyway. The water supplies are dwindling, as are gambling revenues. It's not sustainable, environmentally or fiscally. Already, job growth had flat-lined. The housing market will flop in less than 10 years I predict."

Christian was impressed. Sylvia knew her stuff inside and out.

"Builders who don't take their surroundings into account always flounder," he concurred. "OK, our lawyers are in agreement on the final wording regarding the exclusive rights to their local suppliers. I think this contract's ready for them to sign."

"Agreed." Sylvia shot him a radiant smile, her eyes sparkling. "Your brother is sure to love the business we'll throw his way. I've worked with him a few times now and Elliott's the best architect in town."

"He's a pain but he's good," Christian conceded.

"Actually, before we wrap everything up, mind if I use the restroom?"

"Of course not. Use my personal one," Christian said, nodding toward the door around the corner.

"Thanks." Sylvia grabbed her bag and headed to the restroom while Christian pored over the document in his hands. After a few minutes he stood up, pacing the width of his expansive office while he studied three problematic paragraphs.

"Bastards better not give us grief about this lumber clause," he mumbled to himself, so engrossed in the contract that he didn't notice the woman behind him until a shadow caught the corner of his eye.

"So I think we'll need to sweeten the pot on this one clause…" Christian turned and stopped in his tracks, his jaw slack in shock at the sight before him.

Sylvia stood tall in a lacy black bra and thong set that barely covered her ample assets, holding a bottle of champagne in one hand and two glasses in the other.

"Forget the lumber clause. My lawyers will persuade them. I thought we'd celebrate the deal," she purred, her tongue slowly tracing the bottom of her plump lip.

"What the? What the fuck Sylvia," Christian stammered. Female attention was nothing new to him. Even though he was married, he was also a world-renowned billionaire. Women constantly tried to flirt or pass along their phone numbers to him. It was easy to swat away those nuisances. But a semi-naked goddess standing in the middle of his office was beyond even Christian's scope of seduction — and comprehension.

"What?" Sylvia smiled innocently. "We've been working _hard_ ," she paused for inflection, "on this acquisition for months. Don't you think we deserve a little reward for our efforts?"

She put the champagne and glasses down on the coffee table and took a few steps forward.

"Whoa," Christian said, instinctively taking a few steps back and putting his hands up in warning. "Sylvia, you have seriously misread your signals. I'm married." _Way to state the obvious Grey. She's well aware that you're married, and apparently isn't too concerned about it._

Unfazed, Sylvia simply shrugged, the movement pushing her enticing breasts together until the top of a pink nipple peeked through. Christian's eyes inadvertently widened before he blinked and looked away, his mouth watering at the sight.

"I know you are. I respect that. I'm very discreet — and good."

Christian gulped. "And I'm very unavailable. Somehow, I also highly doubt you respect the concept of marriage, so I think it's best if you leave immediately," he said in as firm a voice as he could muster while trying to hide his ragged breathing. It had been 20 years since he'd seen a woman, practically naked, up close and in the flesh. Likewise, it had been two long decades since he'd whipped and fucked submissives and his famed control was a tad rusty. He was no longer a forceful Dom who wielded a cane and vibrators. He was a doting Dad who made sure his kids did their homework and brought his wife tea when she was stressed. _And there's not enough tea plantations in the world to de-stress my wife if she ever finds out about this crap so this bitch has to leave — now_.

"Sylvia, this is ridiculous. Put your clothes back on or else…"

"Christian, just hear me out," she interjected sweetly, not taking her eyes off her prize. "I know you're attracted to me. I'm attracted to you. Let's not overthink this. We're two consenting adults. You know I'm the kind of woman who goes after what she wants. You're the male version of me. We'd be great together. We can try it once and if it doesn't work out, no harm no foul."

Christian cracked his neck and broke out of his stupor. The mask came down and he assumed the impenetrable veneer he'd mastered to dominate others, both in the bedroom and boardroom. "Don't delude yourself honey. There's plenty of potential harm — to my marriage, to my business and to yours. I'm not dumb enough to risk that and quite frankly, I thought you were smarter than this."

"Why? You think an intelligent woman doesn't have needs? I'm a sexual creature. When I see something I want, I go for it," she declared, suddenly dropping to her knees in front of him. "And I want you to take me, however your heart desires. From the moment I saw you, I knew you were the type of man I would do anything for. Anything," she stressed, her eyes staring directly at his crotch. "You're a strong, alpha male Christian. It's a major turn-on for me. Let me show how much you turn me on. In business, I like to be the boss. But in the bedroom, I want a man who takes control, and right now, I want you to control me and let me pleasure you."

Sylvia reached around and unclasped her bra, effortlessly slipping it off her shoulders. Christian's heart stopped when he saw how perfectly shaped her breasts were. _Holy shit, her tits are better than I imagined. Pert and luscious and natural I think. And look at those flat abs. I bet she's completely shaved down there. Damn, she'd be an amazing fuck._

Christian felt a long-forgotten surge of power course through his veins at the sight of a gorgeous women completely at his sexual mercy. It was intoxicating, but it wasn't blinding. He wasn't about to lose sight of the bigger picture. _OK, Grey, what did that husband do in that movie "Hall Pass?" He took a mental picture of the naked woman and left to go home to his wife. Click, click. Picture taken. You're done. Now get her the hell out of your office and your life before she fucking ruins it._

Sylvia smiled to herself as she spied the enormous protrusion in Christian's pants. "Come to me and let me taste that bad boy," she said, bending forward on her hands to crawl over to him.

"Oh fuck no," Christian spat, the movement snapping him back to reality. _This shit has gone far enough. Get a grip Grey. Ana would be livid if she ever found out I had a naked supermodel crawling over to suck my cock. Hell, the visual alone would make her run for the hills, which I'd never let happen, so it's time to shut this shit down — now!_

"Get the fuck up before I have security drag your ass out of this office," he thundered, widening his stance and crossing his arms across his chest.

"There's plenty of other things you can do with my ass Mr. Grey, and by the looks of what you're hiding in those pants, the prospect is pretty tempting."

"You don't tempt me Ms. Temer," he said coolly. "No woman has, other than my wife."

She arched her brow. "That bulge tells me otherwise."

"That bulge is none of your business. It's reserved for one woman and if you do see anything, it's probably because I was thinking of her, so quit making a fool of yourself and get your clothes back on."

Sylvia had never encountered such resistance before, even from the other married men she seduced. It only upped the challenge for her. She sat back up on her haunches, one hand reaching over to fondle a swollen breast.

"Would this be the same wife who can't be bothered to attend a simple dinner with you?"

"Don't ever fucking talk about my wife," he growled, visibly angry.

"Hmmm, seems like I hit a nerve. What's wrong? Not getting much action at home? I can't imagine being with the same person for 20 years."

"I can't imagine _not_ being with the same person for 20 years. It's a shame you haven't met that person. Then again, perhaps no one could put up with you for that long."

"Oh I don't know about that Mr. Grey? I have my ways to keep men plenty interested in me," she pressed on, provocatively sucking a finger in her mouth while she played with her nipple.

"Oh for fuck's sake. Where's my cell? I'm calling security. You can either cover yourself up or be dragged out of here buck naked for all I care. This crap has gone on long enough!"

Just then, Elliott barged into the room wearing his trademark goofy grin. "Hey bro, I heard you were meeting with Sylvia and…"

Christian and Sylvia both turned to look at Elliott, who stood motionless and dumbfounded in the middle of the room.

"Sorry. I, uhhh, the building contract, and I, uhhh, didn't mean to interrupt, I mean, uhhh, shit," he stuttered, his gaze locked on the stunning nude woman on her knees.

Christian ran a hand through his weary face. "Elliott, damn it! Don't you knock. Oh fuck this!" He stalked past his dazed brother and toward the door, closing it a bit so no one could see inside. "Andrea," he bellowed. "Get Sawyer up here ASAP!"

Sylvia sprang to her feet and reached inside her handbag for her top, while Elliott stumbled backward. "Sorry bro. I'm leaving. None of my business!"

"Elliott, you idiot. You don't understand," Christian tried to explain but his brother was already halfway out the lobby.

 _Whatever. I'll tell him later. Focus on the more urgent problem._

He turned his attention to the woman who was finally dressed and decent.

"Get out Sylvia. I won't jeopardize this deal because it means a lot to the city but above all, I won't jeopardize my marriage, so let me clear: You will have no contact with me whatsoever moving forward. If you even try to reach out to my wife or breathe a word of this to anyone, I will not only sink the deal, I will end you. You mean jack-shit to me. My family means the universe to me. Threaten that and I will come at you with everything I have and then some. You will lose — and I promise it will be ugly. Got it?" The calm and collected CEO was back.

"Yeah, I got it Grey. Don't get your panties in a wad," she lashed out like a wounded animal.

"Good. Then get the hell out of here," he barked, the unmistakable hint of malice in his voice making even Sylvia's unshakeable bravado falter.

Sawyer suddenly appeared in the doorway, hand on his holster, his gaze resting on his boss in confusion.

"Get Ms. Temer out of my building and revoke her access pass," Christian ordered.

Sylvia flipped her perfectly coiffed hair behind her shoulders and marched past Sawyer. "Don't bother. I can walk. You'll regret this Grey."

"No I won't. But you'll regret fucking with me if you don't heed my warnings. Goodbye Ms. Temer," he said, slamming the door as soon as soon as she stepped foot outside his office.

Christian slowly walked back to his desk and slumped down into his chair, his body and mind reeling.

 _What the fuck was that?! How the hell was I reading a legal contract one minute and the next minute I've got a naked, very eager woman at my feet? Jesus, Ana is going to kill me when she finds out, especially after our bickering this morning. Shit!_

He picked up his favorite photograph, which showed his giggling wife, her hand partially obscuring her face as she tried to avoid the camera. She now had more laugh lines around her eyes and mouth than when he'd first met her 20 years ago, which she found annoying but he found endearing.

 _She's so shy. She hates it when I'm always taking pictures of her. But those laugh lines are like a trophy to me, a visual reminder that I've made her happy. When I met her, she hardly ever smiled. Now, I've given her 20 years of laughter. I helped her overcome her depression and her insecurities. SHIT! Now those insecurities are going to go through the roof again when she hears about this. It took her years to regain her self-esteem after those damn surgeries left her stomach all scarred up. I constantly had to reassure that she was still beautiful to me. And lately she's been complaining about getting older and seeing all those other middle-aged twats trade in their wives for gold-diggers with daddy issues. Shit! What was I thinking? I should've just picked that Sylvia bitch up by the arm and thrown her out the minute she took her clothes off. But then what? Have my employees see a half-naked woman coming out of my office? Yeah, that would've gone down real smoothly. The gossip rags would have a field day hounding Ana all over again. No, no. I handled the situation as best I could. I shot her down instantly. I may have sneaked a peek, but I'm a red-blooded male. I was never tempted beyond that. I'd never do anything to lose Ana. She's my entire world and it would come crashing down without her in it. She knows that. She'll understand once I explain everything, right? Of course she will. She's my wife. She knows how devoted I am to her. For 20 years, I've never betrayed her. It's not in me. Never even thought about it. She has to believe me. Right? I guess I could have been more standoffish during the negotiations. Or maybe I could've looked away sooner. Fuck. I definitely should've been more forceful and kicked her out sooner. I don't want to lie, but I don't want to exactly tell my wife I had a woman begging for sex at my feet for a solid 15 minutes. It'll look like I was actually considering it. Maybe I'll tell her it was more like a minute or two. If she doesn't believe me, I have the video after all. I never fucking negotiate with anyone in my office without recording it. This is a prime example why. So it's not like I don't have proof if Ana questions me. But can she really handle watching this? She's still so fragile in so many ways. She's going to be devastated. Fuck. Fuck. FUCK!_

Christian yanked his hair and suddenly remembered that Ana was home early from work today. He grabbed his jacket and hurried out the door, driven by an overwhelming need to see his wife despite the panic and dread seizing his heart.


	34. Chapter 34

"Baby," Christian yelled as soon as he stormed into the foyer. "Where are you?"

The urgency in his voice drew Ana out of the kitchen.

"What? What's wrong? I thought you were still at the office."

A wave of relief washed over him at the sight of his wife, cleansing him of the images from earlier in the day. He wanted to get rid of them. They felt dirty, tainting his mind and his marriage.

Christian unceremoniously dropped his jacket onto the floor and ran over to his surprised wife, promptly hauling her up into his arms with practiced ease. Her legs wrapped around his torso, confusion etched on her face.

"What is it?" _I know you wanted sex, but geez, it's only been two weeks_.

"I need you Ana," he rasped, a feral gleam in his eyes. Ana bit back her shock as he raced up the stairs to the bedroom. _I guess two weeks is like dog years to this caveman._

"Relax. You have me," she giggled as he stumbled through the door.

He suddenly stopped and stared at her, a range of emotions crossing his face. _Yes, I do. And I'll never do anything to fuck that up_.

Before Ana could speak he slammed his lips onto hers, stealing the breath from her lungs. Ana tried to keep up but he was relentless, his mouth devouring hers while his hand desperately fumbled with the buttons on her blouse.

"Whoa Christian. Hang on," Ana panted. "What's the rush? The girls aren't even home yet."

He held her tightly in his arms, his grey eyes boring into hers. "I just need you Ana. Please. I can't wait. I need to be inside my wife."

Ana dumbly nodded while Christian tossed her onto the bed. He quickly went to work pawing at her blouse, his movements uncharacteristically frenzied and uncoordinated.

"Fuck this," he muttered in frustration before tearing the delicate fabric in two. Ana gasped. She hadn't seen this kind of primal hunger in a while, but she was happy to appease her sex-starved man. She held onto the back of his head as he frantically left a trail of wet, sloppy kisses from her collarbone to her naval.

"Mmmm, so pretty," he hummed before coming to rest on the scars that stretched across her belly. _She hated these scars for so many years, but they're invisible to me. So why am I noticing them now? Sylvia had a perfectly toned, unblemished six-pack. Ana would be heartbroken knowing I gawked at it. Fuck, why am I thinking about that woman's body? I have the body I want right in front of me_. _Snap out of it Grey!_

Ana sensed the shift in Christian's mood but before she could say something, he shook his head to rid himself of the mental picture torturing him and violently flipped his wife over.

"From behind baby," he grunted, bunching up her skirt and shredding her panties to bits. "Is that OK?"

"Uhhh, sure."

Christian ignored her bewilderment and clumsily freed himself from the confines of his pants. He lifted her hips and plunged into her without warning, reveling in the feel of her silken walls.

"I'm sorry baby. I just need you. I can't wait."

"OK," she breathed, trying to get bearings. "I'm here."

"Yes," he gritted, pounding into her as if trying to chase away his demons. "I need you Ana. Only you. Ever," he chanted over and over again.

In between thrusts, he looked down at his wife's tiny body as she tried to hang onto the headboard, hiding her obvious discomfort.

 _Why did I flip her around? I'm acting like I don't want to look at her. But I love her. I love looking into her eyes while I drive into her and she comes for me. Fuck, what's wrong with me? She deserves better than being treated like some whore I'm using for my own selfish pleasure. She's my wife. My beautiful wife who can never, ever leave me._

Ana felt Christian's hesitancy and turned her head around.

"Are you alright?" she asked meekly.

"Yes baby. I'm sorry. I just … fuck!" Christian grabbed a wad of his hair, deflated by the look of dejection on his wife. He fell back on his haunches, slipping out of her.

Ana winced, taking a deep calming breath as she gradually turned over. She wasn't exactly ready for their afternoon romp, but her husband never had any problems in that department. _Relax girl. Performance anxiety is perfectly normal every once in a while. Don't wig out or you'll make this worse. All guys go through this at some point in their lives. Well, except my guy. He's a machine. So maybe it's me then? Has he finally gotten tired of me? No, no. Stop it! Christian would kill you if he knew you were doubting yourself again. If you freak out, then he'll freak out and this will become a total shit-show._

"Hey, it's OK," she softly reassured him. "Let's just wait a second or try later."

Christian squeezed his eyes shut, remorse gutting him as he plopped down next to his wife, his arm covering his face.

"I'm sorry Ana. I should not have done that. You weren't ready and then I wasn't ready. I don't know what came over me. I want you. I always want you. I just, fuck," he rambled, his body and voice shaking. "I don't know what I'm trying to say. Forgive me baby."

Ana moved to pry his arm away from his face, gently caressing his jawline. "Hey, look at me. There's nothing to apologize for. It's no big deal. Don't overthink this. It's alright. Really," she vowed, swallowing down her panic.

He gazed into her worried eyes, reaching out to reverentially stroke her cheek. "I love you so much. You know that don't you?" he choked out.

"Of course I do. I love you too. Now what's wrong Christian? Tell me."

He expelled an agonized breath. "Nothing baby. You've been sick. We've been apart. Work was a bitch." He scoffed to himself. _Literally_.

"Are you sure? You seem preoccupied. If something is wrong, you know you can talk to me," she quietly urged him, her fingers rubbing soothing circles on his temple.

Christian's heart beat wildly as he gazed down at his concerned wife. _Tell her. This is the moment. TELL HER NOW DICKWAD!_

"I," he paused as he envisioned the pain that would mar Ana's beautiful features.

"Nothing. It's nothing. Honestly baby," he sighed. "I've just been stressed and was a little too anxious. Sorry I was such a prick this morning and just now. Please. I don't want you to worry about this." _Or anything else_.

"OK. I won't. I promise. And remember, you're my prick just like I'm your pain in the ass," she joked, trying to lighten the mood as she rested her head on his chest. Christian quickly wrapped his arm around his wife, clinging to her tightly as he repeatedly kissed her head.

"I am all yours Ana and you're mine," he breathed. "Nothing can ever change that."

After a few minutes of silent cuddling, Ana moved to get up. "I've got a contract I want to wrap up before the girls get home."

"No don't go," Christian said, pulling her back down to him. He cupped her cheeks and pulled her face close so that their noses were touching. "Just a little while longer. It's been so long since it was just you and me."

Ana smiled and gave him a chaste kiss, which Christian returned, but the moment his lips connected with hers, the ever-present spark between them reignited. He groaned as his tongue traced the seam of her lips and gently slipped into her mouth, which always tasted like an oasis of fresh strawberries to him. He quickly angled her head for better access, his fingertips lightly grazing her ribs. A husky moan escaped her throat as she threaded her fingers through his copper locks to urge him even closer.

Christian's breathing grew jagged as his body blanketed hers and he began grinding his throbbing erection into her. "Ana," he gasped, kissing the slender column of her neck.

"Yes, Christian, yes," she mewled, arching her back to push her breasts into him. His hand began kneading one creamy mound, his erection now rock-hard and painful.

"Oh God yes. Baby, that's it. You feel so good. Yes. I need you." _And I'm going to make love to you the way you deserve._

Just as his aching cock began slipping through her wet folds, however, a pair of familiar voices rang through the hallway.

"Mom, dad, we're home early!" the girls said in unison. They never bothered trying to open the bedroom door, knowing their parents always kept it locked.

"It's a nice day, so we're going sunbathing by the pool," Amber yelled out.

"Oh, and Uncle Elliott's car is in the driveway," Nayla added before both girls headed to their rooms.

"FUCK! You've got to be kidding me," he ground out, his hand still firmly attached to his wife's breast. Christian rested his forehead on Ana's, trying to get his breathing under control.

"What did you expect? They always have impeccable timing," she chuckled, relieved that their earlier awkward interlude was just a minor hiccup. "We'll pick this up later. In the meantime, I'll go check on the girls while you see what Elliott wants."

A flicker of alarm swept his face at the mention of Elliott's name but he quickly tamped it down.

"Make sure the girls don't wear those skimpy bikinis to the pool," he said, avidly watching his wife as she straightened her skirt and buttoned her blouse. _Damn, now I've got to wait until later tonight to see those puppies again._

"You mean so the squirrels in our backyard don't see too much," Ana laughed. "Get a grip Grey. It's just the two of them hanging out by our pool. They can wear a two-piece."

"Anastasia," he growled.

"Christian," she growled back playfully.

He approached her and wrapped his arms around her waist, his gaze filled with tenderness. "Fine. But make sure they put on sunscreen."

"Yes dear. And you make sure you're nice to your brother."

Christian's mood quickly soured. "I'll do my best."

Ana gave him an admonishing swat on the shoulder. "Stop that. You give him too much grief."

Christian rolled his eyes as he tucked his shirt back into his pants.

"I give him grief because he deserves it. He had a great marriage and he fucked it up by not fighting for it."

"I can't believe you of all people have become one of Kate's biggest defenders," Ana mused to herself.

"Well, she's the one who wanted to go to couple's therapy and save their marriage. But he had already checked out and left her little choice but ditch his ass. And now what does he have to show for his laziness? She remarried a great guy who is a pseudo-father to his two girls, while he's an aging bachelor whose life is filled with empty one-night stands and regret," Christian lamented.

Ana splayed her hands on his chest, smoothing out the wrinkles in his shirt. "Stop being so dramatic. It's ancient history. I wanted them to work out too, but they had been drifting apart for years. Plus, they were both so hot-headed. I think Kate needed someone with a cooler temperament to mellow her out. Elliott knows he made mistakes, but at least he's a good father to his daughters and he's working to find a decent girl instead of just dating around, so give him some credit."

Christian sighed, leaning down to nuzzle his wife's neck. "I was just disappointed that he ruined his marriage. He's my brother and I wanted him to have what I have. Family is everything," he said wistfully. _And I'll be damned if I'm going to repeat my bone-headed brother's mistakes, so he better not try to stir shit up for me after today. On that note, I need to go downstairs and straighten him out before he concocts some moronic theories about what actually happened in my office._

"I'll be nice baby, I promise. Go check on the girls and I'll join you in a bit. And then later, once we get rid of everybody, we'll resume what we started before we were so rudely interrupted," he smirked, giving her a final kiss on the lips.

"I look forward to concluding our activities Mr. Grey," Ana winked before heading out the door.


	35. Chapter 35

_**Author's Note: Elliott is not necessarily a bad guy, but someone had to be divorced in this story, so sorry it's him.**_

"Look Elliott, today wasn't what it looked like," Christian began to explain as soon as they entered his study.

"Famous last words," his brother chuckled as he plopped down on the leather chair opposite Christian's ornate wooden desk.

"God damn it Elliott! Quit making light of this. The bitch got naked and propositioned me, and I rejected her ass," he snapped, pouring himself a tumbler of scotch.

Elliott narrowed his eyes. "And I happened to walk in at an inopportune moment I suppose?"

"YES," he roared, slamming the glass onto his desk, nearly shattering it. Christian began tugging on his hair in frustration, the day's events taking a toll on his sanity.

"Whoa brother," Elliott placated him, both hands in the air. "Fine. Fine. I believe you. Chill out."

"There never should have been any doubt. Beyond the fact that I'm your brother, you know me — and what type of man I am. I'm not a fucking cheater. I'm not that stupid. I love Ana and would never jeopardize our marriage for a worthless fuck," he spat out, engaging in a silent staring contest with his brother. The innuendo was clear. Christian didn't know if Elliott cheated on Kate and he preferred being kept in the dark, although he made his views about the sanctity of marriage clear over the years.

"You know what Christian, get off your sanctimonious high horse. For your information, I never cheated on Kate either. Yes, after 10 years of marriage, I became a shitty husband who took her for granted. Yes, I went to the occasional strip club and kept thinking the grass was greener on the other side. And yes, I didn't realize I was a schmuck until it was too late and I lost her," Elliott seethed, any trace of his characteristic playfulness gone. "Now she's shacked up with some dentist who had a crush on her in high school and I get to watch as he lives a picture-perfect existence with my wife and two daughters. Happy now?"

"No Elliott," Christian bit back, exasperated. "I was never happy about any of that shit — and I saw it coming a mile away. That's why I kept trying to prod you to take everything more seriously, but you ignored me."

Elliott stood up, the simmering resentment between the polar-opposite brothers boiling to the surface. "Because all you did was lecture me about what I was doing wrong and constantly hinting that I couldn't live up to the Grey standard of being the perfect, doting husband. Excuse me that I didn't fucking roll out the red carpet every day for my wife. We can't all be like you."

"Maybe if you'd just vacuumed every once in a while, that would've been better than nothing."

The jab was the last straw. "You know what, Christian, take your holier-than-thou husband persona and shove it up your ass. I wasn't the one who had a hot, naked chick sprawled on her knees in my office today — either about to suck your cock or having just finished doing the deed. So why don't you own your shit about Sylvia and fess up to your wife before you give me marital advice."

The shrill sound of a beer can crashing to the floor reverberated through the room. The men looked up to see Ana, holding a beer can in her other hand, frozen in shock.

Silence enveloped the group until Ana took a step back. "I, I, sorry. I brought you guys beer, and, I," she stammered, dropping the other beer in her daze.

Terrified, Christian ran to her but she just as quickly turned and sprinted up the stairs, propelled by fear, disgust and sheer adrenaline.

"Ana wait," he yelled, catching up to her at the top of the stairs. He grabbed her arm to whirl her around. "Wait. Wait. Please, calm down baby. It's not what you think," he pleaded, suffocating on the panic lodged in his throat.

The fog dissipated and Ana found her voice as she looked into his scared grey eyes.

"Did you? Is what Elliott said true? Did that happen?" she asked, her bottom lip quivering.

Blood whirred in Christian's ears and he thought he might pass out, but he refused to let go of Ana's arm. "No," he croaked out. "I mean yes. But it's not what you think. Nothing happened. I swear!"

Ana didn't hear a word after "yes," his confession stabbing her insides to shreds. She violently shoved him off her, tore off her wedding rings and hurled them at him, tears streaming down her cheeks.

"How could you? I trusted you. How could you do this to me? How could you ruin us?" she sobbed, sprinting for the bedroom.

Christian stood there utterly gobsmacked, all of the blood drained from his face as every muscle in his body shook uncontrollably.

"I'm sorry bro. Is there something I can do?"

Elliott's voice pulled him out of his trance. "NO! Go home. You've done enough. I'll take care of this," he thundered, snatching up the rings on the floor and running after his wife.

The bedroom door was open but the bathroom door was closed. He could hear a torrent of wails that splintered his heart. "ANA! Baby, let me in," he begged, desperately pounding on the locked door.

He was just about to break it down when a tiny, muffled voice stopped him.

"No. Leave me alone. I want nothing to do with you. Stay away from me," she rasped.

His heart clenched. "Baby, I have to see you, to explain. It's not what you think!" Christian banged his fist against a nearby wall. _Fuck, I sound like a bad broken record_. _Get to her Grey. Get to her and fix this!_

"Don't you dare come in here," she warned, her tone surprisingly resolute. "I mean it Christian. Stay the fuck away from me!" Her voice caught as another sob wracked her body, forcing her into the fetal position on the bathroom floor as her mind went into overdrive.

All she heard after that was a string of curse words, another fist punching through a wall and the names Barney and Flynn before she clasped her arms around her head, trying to drown out a reality that she never thought she'd have to face.


	36. Chapter 36

_I loved him. I love him. How could he do this? How? How? How? How could he throw 20 years down the drain? Have I been blind all along? Has he been fucking around on me this entire time? Has it all been a lie? Or is he just tired of me now and this is a new thing? My husband! My own husband. The man I trusted more than life itself had that naked cunt give him a blowjob in his office! Even after swearing his undying devotion to me this morning. Oh God, please help me. How could he betray me like that? Who is this person? Who's taken over his body? And what do I do now? Leave? Take the girls? Divorce? Oh God, I can't breathe. Another woman had her lips on my husband's…_

Ana couldn't even finish the thought before hurling the entire contents of her stomach into the toilet. Sweaty, she collapsed back onto the floor, her cheeks pressed against the cool tiles, dry heaves replacing the tears she was no longer capable of shedding.

She had no idea how long she had been laying on the floor — minutes, hours? — until she faintly heard the voice of John Flynn on the other side of the door.

"Ana," he said gingerly. "Are you alright"

She snorted. _Did Christian bring John in so we could get a jumpstart on couple's therapy? Is that how he thinks this works?_

"I'm just honky-dory John. But I'm not exactly in the mood for a psychoanalysis session at the moment."

"Ana, I know you're upset and I realize that's a gross understatement of your pain," he said. "I won't force you to come out. I am, however, going to slip an i-Video player that Christian wanted you to see under the door. It shows everything that transpired with his meeting today, from start to finish."

"I don't exactly need a replay to confirm what happened doc," Ana lashed out. "My imagination has given me all the visuals I can handle."

"I know Ana," John said, calm and unruffled. "But when you're ready, I urge you to watch it. You need to know the truth before you jump to conclusions. Then, whenever you're ready, if you want to come out and talk, I'm here. I will keep Christian away if that's what you need."

Ana heard a loud protest but ignored it. She curled up into a ball, covering her ears. She didn't want to hear anything any more. She wanted to live in a cocoon where she still had a happy marriage and her life wasn't in tattered in shreds. She had stopped crying and welcomed the numbness that took over. She felt like an outsider floating outside her body. Everything that happened since she went to bring Elliott and Christian some beer seemed so surreal, like a scene unfolding in a soap opera or a reality show.

Finally, after 15 minutes of checking out mentally, Ana lifted her head and tentatively reached for the device by the door. She could never figure out how to work the latest wonder gadget from Apple, but it was already set to play, so she hit the button and braced herself.


	37. Chapter 37

Christian frantically paced the hallway directly outside their bedroom, silently cursing to himself, the purple-bluish tendons and veins in his neck about to burst.

His stomach lurched when he heard the bathroom door creak open. What was left of his heart shattered when he saw his wife, her anguished face soaked in tears and her eyes puffy and hollow.

He ran past Flynn toward her but stopped when Ana recoiled from him, stumbling backward into a dresser, fearful and confused.

"Baby," he choked out, trying to tame the storm of emotions threatening to inundate him. "Don't be scared. It's just me. Please. Did you see the video?"

Ana vacantly nodded, the fight seeping out of her.

"Ana, would you like to sit down?" Flynn stepped in.

She nodded again, shuffling to the side of the bed before looking up at her distraught husband. His skin was a ghastly shade of white and his own bloodshot eyes were rimmed with tears. The knuckles on his right hand were swollen. She assumed there was a wall somewhere nearby with a giant gaping hole in it.

"The girls?" Ana blurted out. "Did they hear us? Where are they?"

"They're fine," Christian reassured her, standing as close to her as possible without spooking her. "They didn't see anything. I told them we both had work emergencies at the office and asked if they wanted to spend the night at Gail's. They jumped at the chance. I know you don't like them to see us when we're fighting or upset."

"Thank you. I'll call them later," she said, her voice scratchy. She cleared her throat and went on, drained but determined. "I have a few questions that I need answers to."

"Yes baby," Christian said, his eyes riveted on her every movement.

She wrapped her arms around her waist, hugging herself tightly. Christian flinched. _She's hiding herself from me. Hiding her stomach again. It's so unconscious she doesn't even know she's doing it._

"Go ahead Ana. Whenever you're ready," Flynn counseled.

"I want nothing but honesty. No lies. And no lies by fucking omission either," she demanded, the force of her tone startling both men.

Christian nodded, contrite. He hovered over her, still as a statue, trepidation written all over his face.

"Is this video real? Was it manipulated in any way?"

His furrowed his brows. "What? Of course not. I swear on my fucking life it's real. I wouldn't even know where to begin fabricating something like that. You know I record important interactions in my office. I just called Barney to get the tape. He put it directly on there. I swear…"

"OK," Ana cut off Christian's heated tirade. "I don't know how this tech stuff works so I had to ask."

"Ana, listen to me. The video is authentic. I didn't tamper with it. It shows the truth: Absolutely nothing happened with that woman. You saw it with your very own eyes. You have to believe me."

Ana took a slow, deliberate breath, trying to organize her scattered thoughts. "Has this happened before? With Sylvia, or any other woman for that matter? Have you ever," she swallowed, "cheated on me before."

"NO! NEVER," he yelled. Christian started to rush toward her but held back when he saw how skittish and afraid she was. "I swear to you Ana, nothing like this has ever happened before. Years ago, there was that idiotic PR woman who snuck into my hotel room, fully dressed, and I promptly kicked her out. I told you about that right away. And I've gotten countless phone numbers over the years but tossed them all out. I've always been honest about that. I may have flirted once in a blue moon but never in any way that could be construed as disrespectful to you or crossing any boundaries."

Ana risked a glance up, her watery eyes filled with uncertainty. "Were you tempted tough?" she timidly squeaked out.

"No. Not for one second. I looked. I admit it. And I'm so fucking sorry about that. I should've thrown her ass out the second she came out of the bathroom. But I never had any fucking intention of doing anything. It never even remotely entered my mind. I would never risk this life I've built with you. Nothing can ever tempt me away from you baby," he vehemently declared, overcome by emotion when he spied the lingering doubt etched on her haunted face.

Christian suddenly collapsed to his knees, inching toward her until his head fell into his wife's lap. "I swear to you Anastasia — on not only my life, but my entire family's lives, which you know is something I never do — that I have never once strayed in 20 years of being with you. No inappropriate touching. No kissing. And sure as fuck nothing sexual whatsoever," he said, openly crying. "Please. You have to believe me. It's not in my DNA. I've been faithful. I'll always be faithful. I love you with all my heart. You can't leave me. Please baby. I'm begging. Don't leave me."

Ana placed a hand on his hair, smoothing out the wayward tendrils. "Christian stop. I believe you. I'm not going to leave you," she said softly.

His head shot up. "You're not?" His relief was palpable as he moved to embrace her, but Ana quickly pulled back, wrapping her arms protectively around her waist again.

"No. I can't. I mean, I believe that you were faithful to me and I'm not leaving you, but I'm not ready to forgive and forget. I'm just too," she paused, shutting her eyes, "hurt."

Christian gasped, the single word cutting him to the bone.

"I know baby, and I'm so sorry for hurting you. You have no idea how sorry I am," he shuddered, head hung low as he kneeled before her.

She swiped away a few stray tears and pressed on. "I need to know a few more things."

"Yes," he said dutifully without looking up.

"Will you see her again?"

"No. I meant what I said in the office. I'll allow the deal to go through but she won't have any contact with me whatsoever. If she breaks that, the deal is off. I also have video of her whoring herself out that can be released to the public if she dares comes near me, you or our family."

He carefully placed one hand on her knee, willing her to look at him.

"Ana, if you want me to cancel the deal, say the word. I mean it. If any part of you is uncomfortable with our name being remotely attached to her company, I will pull back. No questions asked. Be honest with me baby. I don't want this to stress you out in any way."

Ana sniffed and shook her head, eyes downcast. "No, that's not what I want. This project means homes for hundreds of families. I couldn't have that weighing on my conscience. But if you have any contact with her from now on, and especially if you hide it from me, I want nothing to do with you any more. Am I clear?"

Christian bit back a strangled sob. "Yes. Crystal. I vow to you Ana that nothing like this will ever happen again."

"I still have to know though. Why did you rush back home afterward to, you know? Were you turned on?" she hiccupped, clamping her hand over her mouth to fight back the bile in her throat.

Christian muscles shook with restraint, his hands itching to touch and comfort his wife.

"I wasn't turned on. I mean, yes, I was horny. Shit, I don't know! We haven't had sex in weeks. I came home because I wanted you. I wanted to be with my wife, to know that everything was alright between us. I guess on some level I felt guilty and it all just snowballed from there."

"You stopped." Ana tensed, hugging herself tightly. "You stopped at my stomach. Why?"

"Fuck," Christian bellowed, his hands flying to his hair as he leapt up and began pacing the room again. "It's not what you think Ana. I swear."

"Tell me then. Because I don't know what to think."

He abruptly stopped and stared at her, his eyes imploring her to let the matter go.

"Ana please. I don't want to talk about this. Don't make me."

"I deserve honesty, especially after everything that's happened. Did you stop because you thought of her? Of what she looked like?" she whispered nervously.

"No, yes, I don't fucking know!" Christian scrubbed his face before dropping his hands in defeat. "For a split-second. Then I felt guilty for even going there. Then I flipped you over and felt even more horrible, so that's why I couldn't go on. I love you Ana. I love every part of you," he vowed, his fists clenched into tight balls. "Please don't let my stupidity affect how you feel about yourself. You know I don't give two shits about the scars. I never have!"

Ana's eyes welled with unshed tears, her breathing ragged. "I just have one more question and then I need some time to digest all of this."

"Go on," he said warily.

"Were you going to tell me about this?"

The question hung leaden in the air, bearing down on them like a 10-ton weight.

Christian expelled a panged sigh. "Honestly Ana, I don't know. You're so sensitive about your body and now with all this bullshit about you getting older, you've been even more insecure lately. I didn't want to pile onto that. The last thing I ever want to do is hurt you."

"Concealing things does hurt me," she countered angrily. "That's what bothers me the most. That something like this could happen and you wouldn't tell me. Being in the dark — THAT makes me feel insecure. It makes me always wonder what you're hiding from me for 'my own good.' It makes me not trust you."

"Ana, don't say that. You know I'm not a liar. I've shared my entire life with you. But yes sometimes, I worry about you, about your emotional state. All I want to do is protect you."

"That's not fair. Don't use 'emotional state' as some code for depression. Yes, I admit it — I get depressed. So do tens of millions of people around the world, who also happen to function quite normally. Don't use my past issues as an excuse to hide shit from me in some misguided attempt to protect me from the truth. It never works."

Regret roiled his gut. "I'm sorry Ana. I truly am. I'm your husband and you're the love of my life. Please trust in that at least."

"I do trust that Christian, but right now I'm so overwhelmed. I still can't believe what happened and I need some time and space to process everything."

He opened his mouth but Ana pre-empted his protest.

"Either way, you have work to take care of in New York. Why don't you push your trip up and give me a few days to sort this out mentally? That way the girls don't notice this tension between us."

"NO," he screamed, arms flailing in the air. "NO! Fuck that. You're just going to use that as an excuse to pull away from me. I'm not going anywhere. The trip to New York is off. I'm staying right here so we can work this out together!"

"Christian, you know you have a tendency to smother me and sometimes I just need to work things out on my own, with some peace and quiet. Plus, I hate acting strange around the girls."

"No Ana. I'm not letting you retreat into your mind. I won't put distance between us. I'll be damned if I'm letting you out of my sight," he said, his deep baritone voice reaching a fevered pitch.

"OK, let's all take a breath here," Flynn interjected. "Is there any type of compromise we can find?"

Christian stubbornly shook his head.

"It's alright John," Ana mumbled, resigned. "It was just a thought."

"Fuck," Christian growled, raking his hand through his hair. "Fuck! Fine, I'll give you two days Ana. That's it. But I'm not going to New York. I'll be nearby at Escala. I'm not going across the country with you this upset. But I'll give you your space. In return, you have to check in with me — constantly. And this is time so you can decompress, not so you can think about what I did wrong and get angry with me and try to come up with reasons to leave me. Do you understand me? I won't allow that shit to happen! You need to communicate with me!"

"Christian, calm down, please. I said I had no intention of leaving you and I meant it. Stop always equating me needing space with me leaving. I know nothing happened and I believe you, but I'm still hurt that you didn't tell me about it, so don't give me a lecture on communication. I'm also still hurt by what did take place. I need to wrap my mind around it in my own way, without you hounding me."

Christian closed his eyes, his shoulders slouched in defeat. "Fine. I don't like it, but fine."

"Thank you."

"Ana, if you want to call me in the meantime, you know where to reach me," Flynn offered.

"Thanks John. Like I said, I need to sort this out on my own right now. I'm not ready to talk about it yet, but I'll be in touch. Thank you for coming over on such short notice."

"Of course. If you need anything, I'm only a phone call away."

"I'll walk you out," Christian said, still sullen.

Ana flopped back onto the bed as soon as the two men walked out.

 _What the fuck just happened?! I think my heart must've stopped beating at least eight times over the last hour. I'm still shaking. Thank the Lord Christian didn't do anything. I don't think I could've survived that kind of betrayal. He's my whole existence and to know that everything you believed in for 20 years was all a lie_ …

Ana shuddered before she took a steadying breath.

 _Relax girl. He's still your husband, still the man you know and love. He's also a shady little liar when he wants to be. I know it would've been hard, but he should have just told me. I would've been furious at first but then grateful for knowing. Now I'm going to constantly wonder about what else he's keeping from me. I thought we were done with this shit years ago. Not to mention the fact that that bitch won't be the last of them to hit on him. How can I compete with someone like her or the parade of beautiful young women eager to give him anything he wants? I have scars and hot flashes and nervous breakdowns and wrinkles and zits and a belly pooch that won't go away for the life of me. It's only going to get worse with time. Men become more mature and distinguished with age. Women just get old. Fucking double standards! And what about those 70-year-old men popping out kids with their 20-year-old wives. Christian loves his girls as if they were his own flesh and blood, but he never experienced the joys of pregnancy and childbirth. What if he regrets never having that in his life? Oh stop it Ana! Don't go down this rabbit hole. Get these thoughts out of your head. Shit! I hate that I'm even thinking about this crap again. I just want to crawl under the covers, lay in the dark and forget today ever happened._

Ana closed her eyes, exhaustion seeping into her bones, but she knew sleep would be elusive as her mind went into overdrive replaying the day's events.

 _I haven't taken a sleeping aid in a while but maybe tonight I should just suck it up and try to get some rest. I wonder if those pills John prescribed months ago are still good? Maybe I can still catch him?_

Ana hopped off the bed to see if Flynn had left. When she reached the bottom of the stairs, she saw both men talking by the front door, a snippet of their conversation reaching her ears.

"Just no cameras Christian," Flynn said in an unyielding tone. "None of that is called for this time around."

"What do you mean?" Ana asked.

Christian's head whipped around, his eyes wide and apprehensive.

She approached both of them, arms folded across her chest, exuding authority despite her diminutive stature.

"Tell me."

Flynn shot Christian a not-so-subtle glance.

"Why do I have to eavesdrop on everything in order to know what the fuck is going on in my own life? Stop being evasive and just tell me what the fuck is going on already," Ana yelled, exasperated.

"Baby, it's nothing."

"Cut the crap Christian," she warned.

He rubbed his temples, trying to ward off his impending migraine.

"I had cameras installed 12 years ago in your apartment when you left me," he admitted as fast as he could.

Ana's eyes darted between both men, dumbfounded by this latest revelation. "Whhaa… how? I mean, what the hell are you talking about?"

"Ana, Christian disclosed this to me during therapy when you both had separated. He had cameras installed to monitor you in case you decided to harm yourself," Flynn explained. "I ordered Christian to remove the cameras as soon as I saw you and determined that you were stable, and as far as I'm aware, he did just that. It was wrong, and I apologize for not telling you."

"You had cameras watching me that whole time," she said incredulously. "While I slept, ate, showered?!"

Christian craned his neck toward the ceiling, as if searching for the right answer, but there was none — other than the brutal truth. "Yes."

"What the hell! Do you even see how extreme that is? That's such a gross violation of my privacy. Were Taylor and Sawyer watching me too?" Ana began to hyperventilate at the prospect that other men saw her naked.

"No baby, please don't let your imagination run away with you. They monitored you in the living room and I kept watch all the other times. That's why I took off from work all those weeks. I wouldn't let anyone else watch over you but me. It was just to ensure your safety."

"But you sat there and spied on me, day and night?" she asked, still flabbergasted.

"Technically, yes," he conceded.

Ana stood there motionless, her limbs weak and her mind exhausted. The look of despair on her face gutted Christian, and he hated being the source of it.

"I would like to say I'm sorry but I don't want to lie to you Ana. The truth is I'm not. You were a wreck. I was terrified you'd do something to yourself and I couldn't allow that to happen. I did what I had to do at the time and I have no regrets."

Ana's jaw fell to the floor as she grasped for words. Just then, she remembered what Flynn had said before she came down the stairs.

Her breath hitched in horror. "Have you had cameras watching me since then?"

"No. You know there are security cameras in the living room and elsewhere, but not in the bedrooms."

He shuffled his feet and glanced down at his shoes, while Ana eyed him speculatively.

"Tell me the truth Christian," she demanded in an ominous tone.

He had lied by omission once today. He wasn't about to make the same mistake twice.

"There are cameras in our bedroom, but they haven't been activated in years," he reluctantly admitted. "The feed goes directly to my personal phone. I installed them when you had an episode about a year after Amber arrived. You were overwhelmed with work and raising the girls and thought you were a bad mother. Your depression came back, you barely got out of bed and I was worried about leaving you alone."

Ana stared at her husband, who at 6"2 towered over her, although at the moment he seemed small and lost.

Her heart broke at the sight, but she couldn't stomach the notion that he had slapped surveillance on his wife just because she was having a tough time adjusting to motherhood.

"How could you do that to me Christian? I was depressed, not suicidal. You should have talked to me, not gone behind my back to spy on me. That's not fair. None of this is fair to me. I'm not a helpless child. I was a new mother trying to find some work-life balance," she exclaimed.

"I know. I'm sorry. I never meant to treat you like a child, but you know how much you mean to me Ana. You're my entire existence. I couldn't live without you. And there have been times where the depression takes such a toll on you mentally. It scares me when you check out. You get these crazy thoughts in your head and they overrule the rational side of you. I couldn't take the chance that you'd do something and the girls and I lost you. I just couldn't. I hope you can at least understand that I came from a good place, a place of love."

Ana shook her head in disbelief and defeat.

"Baby, please. I'm sorry. Don't hate me." Christian's voice cracked, his heart aching at the pain he'd inflicted on his wife.

"I could never hate you," she whispered. "But I'm not happy. Go to the bedroom, do whatever you have to do and take those fucking cameras out. I'm laying down in the guest room. I may be crazy, at least according to you, but today you've made me certifiably insane with all this drama and secrets. My head is about to explode. Just take the cameras down and don't ever record me without my knowledge again."

"Ana." He tentatively reached out his hand, praying she would take it. "You're not crazy, and I'm sorry if I ever gave you the impression that I thought that. I'm the crazy one here. I always have been. I know it. I can't express to you how sorry I am for everything."

She felt the fear of rejection emanating from him, his gray eyes begging her to forgive him. She wasn't ready for forgiveness, but she wasn't going to punish him either.

Ana took his hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. "Just take the cameras down. I'm exhausted and going to lay down."

"Yes baby. I'll be right here if you need anything."

Christian stared as Ana dragged herself up the stairs, despondent and deflated.

"God damn it," he cursed. "How many times can one man fuck up in the span of one day?"

"Apparently quite a bit," Flynn muttered.

Christian shot him a furious glare. "That was rhetorical."

"I know. I'm sorry. But in all seriousness, you will do what Ana has requested of you, right?"

"Yes. Even I'm not that stupid to betray her trust any more than I already have."

"Alright. Then I'll take this as my cue to leave, but call me if you need anything."

"Thank you John. I mean it. Thank you. I didn't know what else to do."

"I'm your friend Christian, and I'll always be here for both of you, but you have to own up to your mistakes and work this out with Ana — at her own pace. Keep the lines of communications open but don't force her. And for God's sake, don't hide anything. It always blows up in your face, spectacularly."

He nodded, his expression sober. "Will she be alright John?" he asked, his vulnerability on full display. Nothing could strip his impenetrable façade quicker than his wife.

"Christian, she believes you. You were faithful. That's the most important thing. But you kept this from her and that in and of itself is a betrayal. Her confidence is shaken. This would be enough to make anyone feel insecure, but I'm optimistic that you'll help her overcome those insecurities. Just be sensitive and listen to her. I know patience is not your best virtue…"

"I'll do it. For her. I'd do anything for her."

Flynn smiled. "I know my friend. I know."


	38. Chapter 38

After half an hour, Christian's impatience got the better of him. He quietly opened the door and tiptoed to where Ana was lying on the bed with her back toward him. She looked so frail and small, the image twisting his insides.

Ana was staring vacantly at the wall. She was impressed Christian managed to wait this long before sneaking in check up on her.

"I know you're there," she whispered into the darkening room, as the sun began to set outside.

"I'm sorry," he sighed. "I just wanted to make sure you were OK."

"It's alright." She turned around carefully, her body sore from crying. "I couldn't sleep. Did you do what I asked of you?"

"I disabled everything electronically. I just need someone like Elliott to come and physically remove the cameras."

"Where are they?"

"Inside the light fixtures."

"Oh. Not very clever. I guess I wouldn't cut it as a spy," Ana quipped.

Christian sat on the edge of the bed. "If it makes you feel any better, I'm not exactly a clever man at times."

Ana snorted.

"Do you want dinner?" he asked, treading cautiously. "You haven't eaten and I know you threw up."

"From the cameras?" she said derisively.

"No. I heard you. Plus I can always tell by looking at you."

"I'm sure I look like a sweaty mess."

"You're gorgeous. You always will be to me."

Ana stared up at the ceiling. It was hard to resist Christian's charm offensive, but she felt numb inside.

"I'll go down and have a small bite, call the girls and wrap up some emails. I want to take the day off tomorrow to have some alone time."

"OK. Can I come with you to eat?" he asked sheepishly.

"Yes, but don't pester me. Respect my request for some peace and quiet."

"I won't. I promise. I just want to be close to you."

Ana gave him a perfunctory nod. Christian proffered his hand to help her off the bed, which she begrudgingly accepted. Once she was up though, he didn't let go, keeping their fingers intertwined as they walked down the stairs together.

Dinner was a largely silent affair, an unspoken truce between them as Ana sipped on a large bowl of chicken noodle soup while Christian ate some lasagna.

"I'll clean up," he offered once they had finished.

"OK, thank you. I'm going to call the girls. I'm sure Gail has already made them pizza and cookies for dinner by now."

"Probably, though she'll say they had salads," he chuckled.

"After that, I'm pretty tired so I'm just going to go to bed."

"In the guest room?" he asked, trying to mask his disappointment.

"Yes."

"You can have our room Ana. I'll sleep in the guest room."

"That's alright. It doesn't matter to me."

He sighed. "OK. I'll say goodbye to you and the girls in the morning before I leave for work. I'll tell them I'm going to New York for a few days but I'll be in Escala. Two days Ana. That's what I promised you and that's what I'll give you but no more than that. I'll be home no later than Saturday morning," he said sternly. "And you have to talk to me. You can't shut me out."

"And you can't push me Christian. I know we need to talk, but you also need to let me breathe. Not to mention the fact that I don't really know what there is to discuss. It happened. You were faithful. But the way you came home to me like that." They both cringed. "The fact that you kept it from me. That you had a bunch of hidden cameras watching my every move. What is there for me to say? It's fucked up. Even you have to realize that. I need to process this insanity that's taken up residence inside my head."

"Please don't say that baby. Don't even allude to it. You're not crazy."

"Then why do you treat me like I am? I don't need kid gloves because I've dealt with mental issues. It's patronizing and disrespectful. I know I was a mess when I left you 12 years ago, and I take ownership of that. Perhaps that's why I'm willing to give you a pass on the cameras that first time around. But the second time, in our own home? That was complete bullshit and you know it."

Christian nodded glumly. "It was, and I'm sorry. This isn't an excuse but please try to understand where I'm coming from Ana. It may sound clichéd but it literally breaks my heart when I see you sad and struggling. It terrifies me."

Ana expelled a breath. "Christian, people get sad. Sometimes there's a reason for it, and sometimes there isn't. One thing I've learned over the years is that being sad can be healthy. It's human. You have to let it out before you can move on. You trying to control my every emotion or erect some wall around me is futile and counterproductive. Give me the freedom and trust to simply let me feel what I'm feeling without judging me or trying to fix everything."

"Ana, I've never once judged you for anything but as for trying to fix things, I can't just idly stand by. It goes against every instinct, every cell in my body to not fix whatever is hurting you or the girls. It's how I'm built."

"I know," she sighed, their conversation at an intractable crossroads. "But I'm not a distressed asset or a debt-ridden company that needs saving. I'm a person with emotions that can't always be controlled or magically fixed. I'm upset by everything I found out today. Respect that I'm allowed to feel what I feel. And yes, newsflash — I will be sad tomorrow once everything sinks in. I'm allowed to be. I'll also work through it."

"I just want to help you work through it Ana."

"And you will, but not by forcing me to rehash everything tonight so that we're perfect by the morning. That's not how it works. Right now, I'm honest to God just really tired Christian. Can I please go to bed?

"Of course baby. Get some rest. Good night. I'll be here if you need anything." He paused. "I love you."

"I know you do. I love you too."


	39. Chapter 39

_**AUTHOR'S NOTE: Just a little insight into Ana's thinking on her depression and how she copes with it.**_

Ana lay in the large bed, restless and unable to sleep. Christian had snuck in three times since she finished her work and turned off the lights. She had kept her eyes closed, feigning sleep, but she could feel his eyes boring into her. After several minutes of watching, he would sigh and quietly leave.

 _He always does this. He means well and I know I should be grateful that I have a husband who is incapable of leaving me alone. Women would kill for the kind of attention he lavishes on me and the girls. But sometimes I feel like an animal in a cage being scrutinized and studied, like some weird science experiment. Sometimes attention is the last thing I want. I want to curl into a ball and disappear for a while._

Ana pulled her knees closer into her chest, trying to do just that. Whenever her thoughts became too much for her, she would crawl under the covers, relishing the stillness that helped quiet her mind.

 _Christian is the opposite. When he's upset, he becomes Mr. Fix It and does anything and everything to keep busy and be productive. That's not me. Depression saps every ounce of strength and motivation I have. I slog through the day, like I'm on auto-pilot — getting the bare minimum done before I can sleep again. Even mundane things like showering or wiping up the counter feel like monumental hurdles. It's like I have some mental block that I can't break through. I wish to God I could explain it. But if I've learned anything from years of therapy, it's that I don't need to explain it. I need to give myself a break and accept that these highs and lows are a part of life — and like all things in life, they too shall pass._

 _Still, it's one thing to feel down in the dumps on your own. It's quite another when you have a family relying on you. When I left Christian, I was truly dead on the inside. Nothing. That's all I felt. An empty, pitch-black cavern of nothingness. I reasoned that there was no sense in making him a corpse right alongside me. The least I could do was set him free to give him a chance at a happy life._

Ana took a deep, ragged gulp of air.

 _Instead, I nearly killed him. I was so lost that I couldn't see how lost he was without me. I guess if you place no value in yourself, it's hard to see how other people can value you. It was like some cruel entity took my mind hostage. Christian was right. I wasn't myself. Thank God he was patient enough to help me banish that beast._

 _But then the girls came into our lives and I had everything any human being could possibly ever ask for. Yet I still struggled to get up and function some days, especially after Amber arrived and I never seemed to have enough time for the girls or the women I wanted to help at work or my husband for that matter. It was so wrong. All over the world, thousands of parents watch helplessly as their malnourished children wither away in front of them despite the incredible wealth that exists on the planet. Yet here I was, one of the wealthiest women on that planet, with a beautiful, loving family, and I had the absolute nerve to feel sad and inadequate. I was livid with myself. How dare I even complain about anything in my life? Why couldn't I just get these feelings of perpetual self-doubt out of my head? Why couldn't I force myself to "get better?" The shame and guilt was suffocating me. It was such a vicious cycle. I would beat myself up for being unhappy and ungrateful. I would beat myself up for failing my children and husband, and then I felt like crap for beating myself up and having those negative thoughts in the first place — which only made me more depressed and anxious. Then I would snap at Christian and manage to feel even shittier about myself._

 _It's amazing how a man who's so impatient always mustered the patience to pull me back from the brink. He never wavered in his devotion to me. He never took my irritation personally. He couldn't relate to what I was going through, but he never judged me. He just constantly reassured me that I was a wonderful wife and mother and that what I was going through was perfectly normal. He helped me finally enjoy the family that I so desperately wanted — instead of being terrified that I was somehow going to fuck them up or let them down._

 _Christian's been dumb sometimes — today being a classic example — but he's never truly let me down. He disappointed me today and we have a lot to work through because I'll be damned if he lies like this to me again. But I also can't ignore 20 years of unconditional support and love._

Ana suddenly hopped out of the bed, overcome by a desire to see her husband.

 _If he can check up on me, then hey, I can check up on him too._


	40. Chapter 40

Ana checked Christian's usual haunts — the piano, the study, the bedroom — but couldn't find her husband. Finally, she spied him hunched over against the glass door to the patio, his forehead resting on one arm.

"Christian?"

He abruptly whirled around, the imprint of his forearm still visible on the glass. Ana was stunned by the sight that greeted her. His hair and shirt were disheveled, his eyes rimmed with tears, his skin sallow and pale.

She ran over to him, cupping his scruffy jaw. "What are you doing?"

"I was just listening to the rain," he said shyly. "What are you doing up? Are you alright?"

"I'm fine. I couldn't sleep so I decided to find you. Insomniacs like company."

"Oh. I thought you were asleep. I popped my head in, but only for a minute. I didn't want to disturb you."

"You didn't." She gave him a knowing smile before frowning. "Why are leaning on the glass all by yourself like that? How long have you been out here?"

He shrugged his shoulders, eyes downcast.

"Oh Christian. You're not 24 any more. You can't run on no sleep like this. It's not healthy. Come on."

She took his hand and led him to their bedroom. Shocked, he simply followed her, reveling in the fact that his wife was worried about his well-being.

His eyes were trained on Ana as they stepped into the bedroom, wondering if she was staying or leaving. He stood at the doorway, mesmerized as he watched Ana climb under the covers and roll over to her side of the bed.

"Well, are you coming? I know you can't sleep without me and you need your rest too."

In a flash, Christian shucked off his socks, pants and dress shirt and was beside her, still in awe that she was laying in their bed and not the guestroom.

Ana gave him a warm smile before turning over. He automatically reached around to band his arms around her belly when he felt her stiffen.

For years, she involuntary flinched whenever people touched her stomach. The scars had long since faded, but it was as if she could still feel their physical pain, like a gaping wound reminding her that she couldn't bear children.

He immediately ripped his arms away. "Shit, I'm sorry Ana. I forgot. Are you alright? I won't do that again."

She turned over. "It's OK. I'm sorry. I didn't even realize I reacted. It's silly."

"It's not silly and you don't need to apologize baby. I've told you a million times, I understand," he said, his eyes shining with sincerity and sympathy.

She began to fidget and twist her fingers, averting his gaze. "I could still have that operation to have them removed. There are lasers now that supposedly make even the worst scars practically invisible."

"No, absolutely not. Please baby, let's not rehash this argument again. I didn't care about the scars 12 years ago and I certainly don't care now. After everything you went through, do you really think I could endure it if you went under the knife again?" He shivered at the memory before sweeping a few strands of hair from her forehead. "Surgery should only be a necessity. I can't bear the idea of you being cut open or operated on, especially not for something cosmetic — and especially not because you think it bothers me. It doesn't. I swear."

"I know," she relented. "And I wasn't going to put you through that strain again. It was just an idea I was tossing out there, but it's a moot point. It's not like I'm prancing around in bikinis anyway."

"Damn straight," he growled, pinching her arm.

Ana rolled her eyes. "Trust me, no one is pining away to see my flabby butt in a bikini. Take a chill pill Grey."

"First of all, I'll be pining away for you until the day I die, and beyond. Second of all, don't insult that butt. It's perfect and it's mine. I hate it when you put yourself down."

"I know, I know. I'll stop. Either way though, this butt is going to sleep now. You need to do the same."

"I will. Can I hold you?"

Ana furrowed her brows. She wasn't ready to cuddle just yet, but she knew her husband needed a physical reminder of their connection, so she clasped her hand tightly in his.

He brought their interlinked hands to his lips and kissed her knuckles before resting them over his heart.

"Goodnight baby."

"Goodnight."

"Wait," he suddenly said, jumping out of bed. Ana eyed him curiously as he searched for something in his discarded shirt pocket.

He climbed back in and lifted her left hand, carefully sliding her wedding rings back on her slender finger.

"Is this OK?" he asked, anxiously gauging her reaction.

"Yes, of course. I'm sorry for throwing them at you like that. It was rude and spiteful."

"It was in the heat of the moment and it's forgotten. Just make sure they stay where they belong from now on." He kissed her palm and took her hand in his before laying his head on the pillow.


	41. Chapter 41

_**Author's Note: Hi everyone – thanks for the feedback. I'm glad some people like the story but totally understand that it's not everyone's cup of tea. I'll still finish it as part of Submission and Strength for those who are following it and maybe break it off as a separate story at some point later on. Honestly, I started off writing this just for myself months ago. It's no secret I've experienced depression, which is why I write about it a lot, so it was cathartic in a way. But it's also nice to put your writing out there and get feedback.**_

 _ **Also, I added a part that I forgot about at the end of the last chapter. Just a sweet little addition if you want to take a look. And to clarify, Ana is not a book editor (I've read so many stories I'm getting everything all mixed up!). In my story, she's a human rights lawyer who focuses on gender issues around the world. Sorry! I'll go back and fix any references to her editing manuscripts so it's not confusing! After this, I'm wrapping up two longer chapters that I'll post shortly.**_

Despite her no-cuddling rule, Ana woke up entangled in Christian's limbs, his arms and legs effectively trapping her. She wasn't surprised. It was his ingrained response whenever he was upset or felt insecure.

She smiled. _Guess I'm not the only one with issues._

The sun hadn't risen yet and the steady staccato of his breathing lulled her back into a relaxed state. She snuggled closer to him, basking in the warmth of his skin — her face pressed against the hollow of his throat, where she could feel the rhythm of his heartbeat.

 _Do I still ask him to leave? On the one hand, I would love to stay ensconced in his arms, in our bubble, oblivious to the outside world. But on the other hand, I can't bottle up my feelings and pretend nothing happened yesterday. I need some space and clarity to deal with these emotions or else they will fester — and I can't do that with Christian watching me like a hawk. I love him but he never just lets me … be._

As if he could hear Ana's inner monologue, Christian woke up, instinctively pulling his wife tighter to him until memories of what happened yesterday came flooding back.

He reluctantly loosened his grip, although he kept his arms locked around her shoulders. "Shit. Sorry baby. I didn't mean to suffocate you."

"It's alright. I'm used to it," she chuckled, resting her head on his bicep.

His other hand reached up to smooth out her hair, cocooning her in his embrace.

"I don't want to get up," he murmured against her forehead, his voice distant.

"I know. But…"

"It's alright Ana. I'm not going to pressure you to let me stay. I've been with you enough years to know when you need your space, and you've been more than generous considering the roller-coaster ride I put you on over the last 24 hours."

"I am a little dizzy after the whirlwind that is Christian Grey. Sometimes I need to get off the carousel and regain my footing. I just need a little alone time. Don't be mad."

"I'm not baby. I promise. I'm going to shower and check on the girls before they head out to school. You sleep. I know how much you love mornings," he smirked.

"About as much I love cooking and cleaning," she grinned.

He tilted her chin and gave her a chaste, tender kiss.

"Just call me when you're up."

"I will. The girls don't have much going on after school today so I told them I'd be home to help them get caught up on their work. I doubt they did much at Gail's other than gossip and eat."

"And complain about their overbearing parents."

"Just you," she giggled. "I'm the cool one."

"Oh yeah?" Christian began tickling Ana's ribs, a mischievous grin plastered on his face.

Ana yelped before swatting his arm away.

"Keep those roving hands to yourself Grey," she laughed. All of a sudden, though, the unbidden image of Christian's hands on another woman's body popped into her mind.

 _That didn't happen Ana. Remember, he turned her down. His hands have only ever been on you!_

Yet the visual of a topless woman kneeling before her husband was seared into her brain, like an unwanted tattoo, the wounds still very much fresh.

Christian felt his wife shrink from him as she warred with her conflicting emotions. His heart constricted, knowing he was the cause of her turmoil.

"I'll get out of your way and let you get some sleep," he said, desolate.

She gave him a weak smile. "Sorry. I guess I've inherited your mercurial mood swings."

He kissed her forehead. "You have nothing to be sorry for Ana. I do. Just please remember how much I love you and that I'm still the man you've trusted for over 20 years."

"You eroded that trust though," she said, surprising herself.

 _Do I really want to get into this right now? No, but he has the right to know what I'm thinking._

She brushed back the tufts of hair that had fallen over his forehead as he leaned over her, anxiously waiting for her to elaborate.

"I realize you were loyal to me and that means the world to me, but I still feel deceived. Even though you refused temptation, you also failed to tell me about it. I'm not going to keep berating you over this, but you need to know that it will take time to regain my trust. Keeping me in the dark seriously hurt me."

Christian squeezed his eyes shut, panged. "I know and I can't begin to imagine what you're going through baby. I would be beyond livid if the shoes were reversed. I realize I've caused you to doubt me and, by extension, yourself, but deep down, you know what kind of man I am. I'm not perfect, but I've worked 20 years to be the kind of husband you deserve. I know I fucked up and even though I can be stubborn, please believe me that I learn from my mistakes."

"I'm far from perfect too, and I certainly couldn't handle anyone who was, but I also can't handle secrets and dishonesty."

He nodded, chastened. "I know baby. Neither could I. I hear you."

"Good. So no more cameras right?"

"No more cameras," he confirmed soberly. "I may still lay down and watch over you while you sleep, but I swear that's as far as my spying will go."

"That's still kind of creepy but fine. I'll talk to you later." Ana burrowed herself into the comforter, signaling that their conversation was over.

Christian gave her a tight-lipped smile, swooping down to sneak in another kiss on her forehead before going to the bathroom, leaving Ana alone with her jumbled thoughts.


End file.
